Love, Reign Over Me
by RedNightBird
Summary: This free standing AU story begins in 1963 with Mick's Reno Divorce and moves thru to the present day. Orig. Published 5/11
1. Chapter 1

This Series was originally published at 6DegreesofAleOloughlin dot com as well as MoonlightFreshies dot com in May of 2011.

This story came about when I had just gotten to the end of "what could I do with Mick St John?" within my own universe.

In my own land I am an Alternative Universe Moonlight writer, so going from that you can tell this will not be a canonesque Moonlight fanfic.

_I recommend you get acquainted with **The Diving Bell and the Butterfly**, a true story about a man in a "locked in state"._

Dedicated to the one and the only "Sparkly Bird"

* * *

><p>The old man sat, pensive, gaping at the moon. The blue white orb sat heavy and contented in the indigo sky, wafts of cotton candy clouds moseyed across the man in the moon. He caught the sight of his hands in the moonlight, thin skinned, liver spotted with bruises he could not recollect. What day was it? When he wasn't waiting for her, he spent his time thinking about that young man.<p>

Los Angeles, 1963

_**Only love, can make it rain, the way the beach is kissed by the sea.  
>Only love, can make it rain, like the sweat of lovers laying in the fields.<br>Love, Reign o'er me. Love, Reign o'er me, Reign o'er me Reign o'er me.**_

I knew only love could move mountains, launch armadas, change lives.

My life had been changed, by my love for a woman who grossly misrepresented her existence. Now my steps ate up the pavement as I mulled the next segment of my life. Long strides had taken me to JK Ventures, to chat up Josef before "dinner". What can you do when you're a vampire, a hugely dysfunctional vampire?

Josef had drawn me into a web of friendship so thin and invisible it could have been spider silk. From the moment Coraline spun me off like a top, Josef had nurtured my vampire nature or at least gave it his best try. Too bad, my human nature bubbled to the top, indomitable.

"What does not kill you…?" Josef intoned.

"Makes you severely pissed off" I cut, my heart twisted like a sopping dishrag, tossed on the drain board.

"Why do you think Reno is so popular? Divorce, since the dawn of . . . . . Reno . . . . . it's been the place to go when it's time to make the break." Josef seemed choked for words, he wasn't glib about me leaving Coraline, he wanted to express that a hurtful job could be done with an injection of pleasure. "You have a long time to feel jerked, Mick. Take a little trip"

"So, I take a breeze to Reno, then what?" I flipped the key chain of my new purchase, a bottle green Mercedes Convertible. It was my reward for not killing my wife, the woman who made me the monster I am.

"If you could on your way back, I've got a little task. Could you be a guardian angel for a couple of days?" Josef inquired, posing behind the bar, prepared perhaps for a flying object.

"What now?" I asked, attempting to mix reticence and humor.

"Got a business associate, his lovely daughter, she needs an escort for a couple of days while Victor and I do a little business in Vegas"

My expression turned to interest. "Family?"

"No, mortal….and Dawn, well she's a flower of British beauty" Josef's eyes softened, admiration for this little British flower gleaming in his eyes.

"So, I swing east for a d.i.v.o.r.c.e, then when I'm footloose and fancy free…I get to babysit"

Josef flashed directly behind to grasp my shoulders, his lips near my ear, "All daughters aren't in rumba panties" then in a flash he was back to the book case, peeling a leather-bound book from the shelf, "Here she is, Lady Dawn". The Book of Peerage revealed a Debut photo of a comely young thing, delicate fingers wrapped around the arm bouquet of long stem red roses. Those slender arms rose to meet at delicate shoulders where waves of hair rested. Eyes bright, dimples, pleasant lips caught up in a Mona Lisa smile.

"Hello, hello….never knew I'd look forward to Dawn quite like this…" I whistled as I held the book closer.

"So, you're in?" Josef's laughter rose the closer I drew the book to my face.

_**Only love, Can bring the rain that makes you yearn to the sky.  
>Only love, Can bring the rain that falls like tears from on high.<strong>_

I wanted to cry, that wouldn't have sat right with my Dad, so I didn't. I just bucked it up and got on the airplane with a second valise for the side job in Las Vegas. I had already spent 11 years ricocheting between Coraline and Josef; I should have been prepared for the big split. Looks like Josef got custody of me. I ran my hand over my jacket pocket, all the paperwork I needed for the divorce were there just as they had been the last 6 times I had fingered them.

I was disappointed with the process, going into the arrangement I got a blessing and a "You may kiss the bride" down the aisle; all I got here was a wad of papers and a chance to write a check. Again.

I guess the Kostan limo picking me up outside was my victory lap to Vegas' "Stardust" hotel.

"Mr. St. John" the doorman recognized the burgundy limo and I braced for whatever the limo inferred in terms of my expected behavior. Josef had kept a small suite here since the place opened a few years back.

_**Love, Reign o'er me. Love, Reign o'er me, o'er me.**_

I knew I'd have my hands full; keeping the family secret while I kept tabs on a British lovely AND behaved myself. Why had I said "yes"?

The elevator opened to the suite, a proper British butler replacing the flashy dressed hotel employee. "Mr. St. John" his white glove directed me to the sofa area facing the panoramic window. My shoes clicked on the marble and I thought . . . this place is too loud for vampire hearing. I caught the anxious intake of air from the human hidden by the tall wing chair. I froze.

"Hello" I sent out the greeting, hesitant to go further. A deep breath and I heard the swish of hair and nylons as she raised, her hands resting on the chair back, as if to tether her to ground. After all…..she was an angel.

"Hello, I'm remiss in my manners, Mr. St John, welcome" She extended that ivory hand tentatively as if she wondered if I would shake a woman's hand, "I am Lady Dawn Hallowell"

I forgot any British protocol I knew and caught her fingertips and bowed slightly, Josef would have kissed her hand and scented her with the pretense of courtly manners, I didn't.

"Call me Mick" I offered, not wanting to look like her body guard.

"Mick" the single syllable sang from her lips. You could have knocked me over with a breeze. We stood, eyes locked and hands still joined, neither realized it until Jeeves, or whatever his name was appeared.

"Refreshments are served, Lady Dawn" a bow and Jeeves was gone. The guy had near vamp reflexes.

"Will you join me?" She lifted those delicate fingers from my cold hand and glided past me. The scent of Yardley Lavender trailed, enticing me to follow her anywhere.

"Mr. Kostan tells me you are on a special diet, I hope this meets with your sensibilities" Lady Dawn gestured to an opaque decanter and a ruby glass goblet. OK, the secret's out. I was ready to defer refreshments, feign allergies. What else was she going to offer me?

I poured my own as she slathered clotted crème over the lemon poppy seed scones, as she topped it with strawberry preserves and popped a bite into her mouth I thought of plundering those lips and tasting her.

I wanted to talk, yet conversation locked inside me. How long had it been since I had a conversation? My vocalizations had been limited to debates with Josef over Blond vs. Redhead and the obvious blunt approvals as a redhead provided me comfort and succor.

I hadn't done more than read a newspaper in years, and the radio was for baseball games. Lady Dawn caught me, I had zoned out, peering at the sunset over the gaudy lights on the strip.

"Are you in the film industry?" Lady Dawn politely asked, unaware of what silver emulsion did with a vampire's image.

"No" I smirked, thinking what my image would be on the silver screen. Her intentions were to have a civil conversation while I thought my interactions would be limited to following her and grimacing at the Lotharios in her path. Then I thought perhaps I was being rude, Mom just wouldn't be proud of her Mickey, "I am between jobs right now". There I said it. I had come back from the war, made music, put the make on Coraline and then she put the "make" on me. Since being turned I hadn't been much more than arm candy.

"Do you gamble, Mr. St John?" She asked, her pert nose just above the tea cup enjoying the Earl Grey's steaming scent.

"Mick, call me Mick, every day" I glibly replied then it all became a blur even for me.

"Call you Mick every day?" A confused expression danced across her sweet lips and spread to her bright eyes.

"No, I meant, I gamble everyday" Now we were both confused.

The misunderstanding did not last long; the Lady liked moonlit rides with the rental's top down out to the desert to watch the glow of the strip against the night sky. Midnights, I'd stand by the pool looking like Secret Service as she took graceful strokes in her Esther Williams one piece suit until she lost count of the laps. She slept past two every day, preferring the relative cool of the afternoon and night to the scorching daylight. She shared her volumes of Mike Hammer, making pointed jabs at the nature of P.I.'s, my budding career unknown to her.

When I got the call that Josef needed another couple days I didn't quibble. By the fifth evening she had me in the palm of her genteel hand, literally. That night we wrapped around 3:00am, an arm full of woman thrown over my shoulder as she giggled.

"Don't leave me, Mick," Lady Dawn whispered as I stood her up to unlock the door. She was rumpled angora and silk, I felt like raveled burlap.

"You know I've got a place on the other end of the suite" I nodded, kicking the door open as I swept her up to get her into the suite. Her hands encompassed my head and urged my face toward hers; I stiffened in more places than one. I drew away, thinking I was the stronger one here, then my head hit the wall and she pressed me, right on the lips. My mind ran with the idea of a kiss…. We shared the abandon of two people who had drank and danced too much.

**_On the dry and dusty road, the nights we spend apart alone._  
><em>I need to get back home to cool, cool rain.<em>  
><em>I can't sleep and I lay and I think, the night is hot and black as ink.<em>  
><em>Oh God, I need a drink of cool, cool rain.<em>  
><strong>

We were two parts of a whole that had been separated in shipping from the factory. She caught the back of my jacket as I turned from dropping her on the bed and I was as good as done.

"I'm your body guard, not your body inspector" I jested as she peeled off her silky blouse, an invitation I could not misconstrue.

"Then stay here and guard me, from ghoulies and beasties and things that go bump in the night" she purred, locking eyes with me.

"What if I am one of those things?" It funny to explain it, she was not Freshie material, yet all I wanted to do was feast on all that was not blood…the supple flesh of her thighs, the arch of her instep, the crook of her elbow. I wasn't thirsting for blood I was thirsting for a connection.

So there she lay, the vision of refinement, throwing open her "palace gates" for me, a recently divorced, musician, Army Veteran flunky. In 1963 did they even worry about Veterans? Probably not….. Better drop that from my pity list.

"The better to know their plan of attack . . . . . at least you're on my side" She rolled over and unclipped her brassiere with two fingers; it fell from her breasts and celebrated their freedom as they swung with her laughter. She rolled over, propped on her elbows and kicked her pink painted toes at me, then I caught the sight of the dimples on the rise of her ass and I was a goner.

The bed bounced with my landing, and I was over her so quickly she squealed, but not for the last time. She was ripping at the buttons on my Van Heusen as I fought my trousers, Lady Dawn took over. She slid down and surged her cheek to my excited flesh, then turned to press an awed kiss along the pulsing vein.

I gasped in speechless awe, a rumble mounting when she began to kiss her way upward, along that vein. Held tightly in her hand, I surged and throbbed beneath her lips, the cool satiny skin held tight over a straining core of iron.

"oh, oh, ahhhhhhh..." I moaned, lost for words. Part of me needed more, part of me retreated. The fixed look on Lady Dawn's face said "lay back", so I did. She glanced upward to see my head thrown back on the pillow, my hands in claws, grasping and releasing the sheets above my head with an all-out, full tilt boogie rhythm.

Was there a penalty for boinking an official "LADY"? It didn't matter, though; Lady Dawn had no intention of stopping. She was used to erudite white bread and action that would have been over within minutes. When her lips reached my broad rim, she stopped for an instant and flicked just beneath it, on the underside of my shaft, loving the taste of me, there, on that tender spot, my "go" button. It was all I could do to writhe in rhythm with her.

She let her tongue follow my lead, licking and kissing up and down my straining length as I moved, then nipping lightly at my rim with her teeth I huffed. Halted, muscles tensing so powerfully she thought she'd gone too far, so far, she had not seen the vampire come out to play – this was about to draw the vampire right out of me.

I bucked under her teeth, letting her draw me deep into her hot mouth. Her lips tightened, where on earth does a "Lady" learn to do this? I fell back to the bed, body trembling sharing a budding need that flooded us both. I muttered lowly, the words almost faint from the groans filling my throat. She was fueled by the sounds I made, the low murmurs and thrashing motions that told her so clearly of the pleasure she gave me.

Dawn's hands, her mouth, her body brought me all this ecstasy and she had no idea what she had invited out to play. The passion burned so bright I felt scorched with her heat. She drew back, her hand still holding me tight, needing to see me laid out with passion.

I was her magnificent vampire, fangs descended, body long and taut with tensing, arching muscles. The massively unnatural power there for her to capture, to control with two gentle hands and two luscious lips. Whether you focused on the natural or supernatural nature of all that was bedding a vampire, this was a singular night for this blushing rose and an emancipating night for me. I ate up the sight of her delicate skin was alabaster in the dim, warm light, and coated with an erotic perspiration as sensual as the tension in the room.

Lady Dawn's long waves of hair shined in the dancing lights peeking into the room, the tendrils around her face darkened with sweat from our passion's fever. The electricity encompassed us both, she was magnificent and I thought again, unable to come up with an adjective that more perfectly defined her. Absolutely irresistible, damn, she had my total attention.

Lady Dawn's eyes drift up my body until they met mine, yet her hands stayed tight riding that steely length. Holding my straining erection outward and up, we shared a ribald grin as I felt the vein throbbing.

My mouth hung open as I panted loudly, gasping in lungfuls of air in gulping draughts. I ate up the sight of her hand wrapped around me, small by comparison, her face just beyond. I saw her cheeks red and hot and tight, desire drawing hard planes and angles there that told me of her need. Our eyes met, both heavy-lidded, speaking where words could not.

Then she read my mind…Her tongue peeked out to wet her pink lips parched by the arid heat they created. I saw it, and groaned, my erection surging in her hand, relieved I didn't have to breathe. I caught the feeling of her hair brushing my thighs and knew she had thrown her head back…..I was consumed by her verve, her fire. Her throat was arched and bare to my hungry gaze, her eyes slits gazing through dark, heavy lashes. When her tongue slipped out once more, I drew in a heavy breath, my stiff cock swelling in her fingers yet again. She stayed there for a moment, a silent scene of her soul's gift.

Did she know how totally she unnerved me? "L. .A. .D. .Y . . . .D a w n" I cried.

"I do not require such a formal title when we're…..you know" Her eyes glittered with humor, right before I gasped at the sight of her taking me between her luscious lips.

Finally her lips pursed closed and pressed lightly, tenderly, upon the very tip. She held me there, with the sweetest of touches, our eyes still locked while I drew in breath after ragged breath, trying urgently to stay still so that I wouldn't lose one moment of that idyllic contact.

When her tongue flicked out into the tiny slit at the tip, within her enclosed lips, she had me arched up off the bed, unable to control myself. Where were we headed? Could I explain a doublewide freezer to the English peerage? As inventive as Lady Dawn seemed to be….could she?

She held me tight, not deepening that erotic kiss, until I fell back to the sheets again. Only then did she begin to slowly slide her lips down over me. Softly, purposefully, she let her lips open upon, her tongue swirling over each incremental section taken in, until her lips were pressed tight to the rim. She held just my head enclosed, and began to suck softly, licking lightly over the tender slit at the pinnacle.

She listened to my moans, our eyes locked as I blinked rapidly, legs twitching as they lay alongside her body. She was nestled within my thighs, and now, with her mouth holding me at last, her hand left my cock until I felt both gripped my hips, stroking and fondling my flanks.

She continued to mouth my throbbing flesh, her touch barely more than what had been before, but now she held the sensitive head enclosed completely, she drew an unexpected response. A snarling gasp escaped me, as my fangs fully extended. My eyes silvered over as she drew on, and my hand, up until this point held far - and safely - away, swiftly descended to clasp her shoulders in a tenderly tight grip.

I was dancing on the razor's edge and Dawn wanted to take more, to give me more – I had to let go. I drew my wrist to my own fangs and drew blood.

"No, Mick, allow me" and she slid over me, silk over iron. I stared as she rode me, breasts so high and firm; her beauty mystified me as much as her boundless energy. I held her hips and we rolled like waves on the Pacific.

_**Love, Reign o'er me, over me ,over me ..  
>Love, Reign o'er me, Reign o'er me, Reign o'er me.<br>**_

It was about that dancing. From her alacrity at her "skills" it was always about dancing thru her life in the moonlight, in the daylight. I was a vapor here for just so long and she would work her magic to catch and hold me even if it was with her hands, her mouth, and her sweet, sweet thighs.

I viewed her pink flesh strangling my cock as she rose and fell, propelling her weight with those luscious thighs, her tight silk constricting me until her orgasm joined with mine. Her whimpering grew to a crescendo as I bit my own self and we fell to boundless depths, together possessed by the tingling flesh of sensual abandon.

I caught Lady Dawn as she fell to my chest, she nearly sizzled with warmth and I treasured those almost human moments of peace and quiet. I stroked the dewy ringlets at her hairline and ogled her flesh as she conformed to my side, held tight with my right arm.

The sky shrieked with flashes of lightning against the breaking indigo – she nestled closer at the sound of the thunder and words would have ruined the moment. She was as much a force of nature as the light show in the sky.

"Mick, you make my blood run hot" she whispered as her finger circled the whirls of the hair on my chest, I returned the favor and watched her nipple pebble in response.

"And you, you….." I was lost for words…."you make me dizzier than 30 year old scotch". Damn, I was a slaggard in the pillow talk department. That night, she slept in my arms.

It was not a world I could face sustaining, it was a stage I would be moving thru. I knew very soon my size 10.5's would be out from under her bed and pointed toward LA. I carefully slid out from under her zaftig form and headed for the freezer thoughtfully hidden behind a faux marble wall.

What about the emotionally suffocating times between her bare feet entwined alongside mine? It was about my memories of futile years before I met her, before I was her greatest dream.

The moment when she was most free, unencumbered by the binding golden chords of "peerage" and duty she was most removed from whoever she was or would be or might be. In those moments we were lovers lost in a no man's land. That night I watched Lady Dawn flit from window to window in so much abandonment that no other world but this might exist. The neon danced, flashing shadows on her skin and her lustrous light brown hair.

"What's on our dance card tonight?" she queried.

Her humanity made her more stunning than any Goddess on the club stage. Dawn would regard the ground we were about to cover in our nightly festivities, halt and grin, wide eyed and knowing, aware I was her audience and playing on it.

"Ladies' choice" I deferred to the tourist, I could always beg a trip back from Josef. The fire in my belly was that crazed sensation when love was an emerging ache, a terrible burn that had a name, Lady Dawn. Where silk sheets and caresses meant more to me than the pretense of breathing, meant more than thinking, went as deep as wounded wondering what I would be when her father spirited her home to the UK.

In the silence, she spoke, to fill what could never be filled, our eyes could meet and the conversation between us was a language which brooked through our mouths, our moving hands, and agreeable bodies. What passed between us was the stuff of dreams, of nightmares, of worlds untold, between her reality and my past hell. It was a fantasy to be overlooked for the memory of home.

It was no surprise when she snaked her arms around my waist. On my body there must be some spot, some sacred finger print, untouched, unforgotten, perfect and pleasant and pleasing, my heart never having forgotten her girlish laughter.

"Is this your idea of tonight?" I wanted to erect a fence between us and the outside. The record player's snap and pop ran with her quickening heartbeat. And when the music stopped, her limpid eyes, under layers of thick lashes, had sought mine. That had been obvious from the moment she looked up from my chest, into my face, so cold and dark. From her expression she was taking memories for enjoying in the future in the sharp shadows of England.

"Lady Dawn, your Father awaits you in his suite" I hadn't quite gotten used to the hired help showing up at a split second, even with vampire senses it was abrupt when "Jeeves" pushed open the double doors and made his brusque announcement.

In her eyes, my eyes, a raging storm brewed. She unfolded from my arms and trailed a delicate finger to catch my hand.

"Alone", "Jeeves" snapped, as if he was running the show. I stopped mid step and retracted my hand, feeling foolish I ran my thumb over my bottom lip, inspected the pattern of the marble mosaic in the floor.

"I'll wait here" I gestured to the sofa and walked to flip the record over. As least I had Miles Davis to keep me company.

I listened to side "A", flipped to side "B" and still no sign of Lady Dawn. 9:48pm and I was alone, pacing the length of the window. Just as I flipped thru the record collection for a second platter, I heard the clip, clip, clip of Jeeves' heels.

"Mr. St John, Lady Dawn regrets she is unable to keep her evening's commitments. Lord Hallowell thanks you for your devotion to the Lady's safety and in no long in need of your services" The bastard stood tall, effete as he offered the hotel envelope to me. I stood there, hands resolutely at my side as if not accepting the envelope meant a rebuke of the situation.

I knew it as good as I was standing here, Daddy had caught wind of the events of the last week and he was putting his highhanded kibosh on me and Dawn.

"I need to say good-bye" I still didn't accept the envelope.

"The Lady sends her regrets for her hasty departure" His dry delivery galled me. I scented his pleasure at his power over the situation.

Then without any compunction I simply lifted the British peckerwood by his throat and held him up against the wall. Beside the full bladder, the dork emptied what little brain he held between his jug ears.

"Lady Dawn is leaving via the kitchen exit, along with Lord Hallowell, right now" He shivered as he felt the chill of his reduced blood flow, and I dropped him to beat feet out of there. Down the hall, 21 flights of stairs and out the back service entrance.. .. just in time to see the limousine burn rubber out the driveway.

One part Marlon Brando, one part Lawrence of Arabia, I scooped up the Honda Bentley motorcycle tucked in the corner of the kitchen parking lot and followed the limo. The off-road scenery flew by and sadly the airport was so close, I didn't have miles to skirt close and intimidate them to pull over for a love sick skuzz.

Then the limo slowed and turned to the "Private Jet" entry, I banked steep and swung the bike alongside Lord Hallowell's door, jumped over the roof to pull open Lady Dawn's door.

My undead heart sunk at the sight, a mousy dude clutching a clipboard centered in the back seat, alone…... he squinted at me as we watched the small jet ascend into the night air.

"Mr. St. John? This is for you" he knew I was St John, who else would steal a motorcycle to follow an escaping limo? I accepted the crisp, heavily scented envelope.

"Dear Mick:

Daddy was not amused. I am at a loss here; I'm bound by so many other tethers than just my affection for you.

If time is such a malleable thing for a being like you, can you see it in your heart to remember this week? Would you give me 3 years to fulfill my domestic obligations?

Knowing you are newly divorced, this gives us an amenable period of time to connect on other levels.

All my love,

L. Dawn."

I scented the sadness, her resolution at being forced into leaving so I folded the notecard and slid it inside my shirt pocket.

"I'm sorry for my parking job" it was all I could say as I returned to the purloined cycle and kicked it into gear to return to the hotel. The suite was empty. All of the solitude was exemplified by the lonely sound of the turntable spinning as the needle skipped. I gathered my valise and summoned the chauffer who drove me to my week of reckoning.

1963, it was quite a year so far.


	2. Chapter 2

The old man thought about those eyes, those blue/green eyes, they sparked with willfulness. So long ago and so far away a dream evaporated in the undead heart of a young man. Yes, he was a young man even though the boy's year measured only "two score" in 1963.

1963….the year I lost Dawn, the year the country marched on Washington for jobs and freedom, the dark moment when the country lost a President my age to a sniper's bullet. And by the end of the tumultuous year, within eruptions of civil disobedience and society's uprisings I was ensconced on the top floor of the Guaranty Title Building across from Pershing Square.

**1965**

The music lilting upward from the people in the park spoke volumes on depth of the passion of the 60's. Who fueled that passion? It wasn't the free love…. That free love was fueled by drugs and even in the lazy, crazy hazy days of free love and peace blood ran cold when it came to the nickels and dimes over dope, LSD, California sunshine, Lucy in the sky with diamonds well you get the image.

Would I say I, Mick St John profited from illegal drugs? No, I didn't, I never sat in an alley and swapped cash for a dime bag. Did I ever sip from the throat of a slightly hallucinogenic Freshie? Yeah, a lot, I tripped thru 1964, 1965 and when it was the day, the month and the year to show up on Lady Dawn's doorstep I was otherwise engaged.

"Mick" Josef's voice was slow, low and serious.

"J'sef" my reply was hampered by the fact that I was buried nose deep into the neck of a sweet young thing who thought "L.S.D." meant "lunch served at dawn". My cold, dead flesh was being overtaken by tiny tadpoles of surrealistic energy. I wanted to feast, I wanted to fuck and I wanted to lay there and let it all happen at once. I tanked there under her warm flesh letting her feed me. What did Josef want that was more important than this?

"Hey, Mick" Josef was over me, snapping his fingers a few inches from my half closed eyes. I jolted to, nearly dropping my meal; Josef caught her up in his arms and relieved me of my stupor in the same second. What the fuck did he want?

"You . . . . . have a visitor" he croaked as he watched the silhouette move in the double door frame. Had she come to me? Had Dawn come to me?

I swallowed hard at the profile; it wasn't Lady Dawn but a much more imposing figure from my past.

"Mick" a silken voice preceded a leather covered hand as it extended itself from the shadows and the rest of the black clad body moved to sidle up to me. "You called in a Cleanup beside the Biltmore last week and there are some details we need to follow up with you."

By now we were so close, we would have been swapping breath if we were mortal. But, if we were mortal we wouldn't be chatting about a pair of exsanguinated females left entwined together near the kitchen exit of the grand hotel overlooking Pershing Square. That was the sobering thought. I did my duty as a member of the LA Tribe and called in a Cleanup after I caught wind of the sound of scuffling and the preternatural hissing of primal rogues. So rather than to "spill" I waited for the questions.

"What hour did you happen upon the deceased?" She pulled out the smartphone and tapped in anticipation of my answer.

"You know it was 4:35am" no emotions in the room, just facts.

"And you scented no other "family"?" An eyebrow punctuated her question.

"I reported mixed scents, Fledglings, 1 or 2. It was too breezy to know" All info I had belched out sitting in the panel van, reciting it over was a buzzkill.

"You know, Mick, if you did this there's no penalty, you called for cleanup" The auburn pony tail bobbed as she shook her head. That body language negated her "absolution" to me. I drew my hands down into my pants pockets, standing there stiff armed. I felt 13, caught with too many soiled tissues for just a runny nose in my bedroom waste basket.

Josef's expression almost lightened at the thought that I'd take two on the road, as he said I had a problem with spontaneity. I shook my head," it wasn't me", I blew something off my upper lip and spun to return to my chair.

"Thank-you, Josef, Mick" The Cleaner nodded and stepped backward from the room as if I were royalty and the evening resumed where it had been interrupted.

"I thought you had done me proud, you know, shopped in your neighborhood" Josef smirked, lighting the Churchill cigar.

"Why take the chance when I can eat free, here?" there was no lingering sense of mischief in my voice, I meant it.

"Right…"Josef admitted before he nestled his head on the back of his wing chair. Josef was redwood within a grove of pines, a rock others broke themselves against. He only spoke with purpose and his purpose tonight was to tease me until a baser, more atavistic vampire emerged. No desiring an argument I figured it was time to boogie on home.

"G'd evening, Mr. St. John" The Doorman nodded as I entered the marble foyer, he bolted toward me a stack of mail, "Postal carrier took these to the unit below you, Ms. Stephani ask me to get them to you.

I took them and nodded, it would junk as I had a PO BOX for the good stuff. There on top, something that wasn't junk mail. Perhaps there was a willingness of the defense to prosecute me to the full extent of love's laws for the transgression of breathing too near, being too near, daring to be all that I was. You see, Ali had spent a number of weeks with me and I delivered the verdict…..I wasn't the guy for her…..She thought I had made the decision without her input, as if a mortal has a "say" in the matter.

Her brittle humanity spoke volumes to what she would lose with me; sooner or later I'd slip. "Many a slip between the cup and the lip" and certainly things did not happen at the last minute the way they were expected to due to unforeseen reasons. Reasons like I sipped a bit more than I should have, I left her nearly comatose after a night of jack-rabbit sex.

**A Few Weeks Ago:**

"Baby, Ali, baby…." Wake up "Baby are you ok?" she lolled, listless, limp. Her pulse was slow, so I lifted her eyelid, her eyes unresponsive. I freaked, it had been too much fun in too little time, and I shifted into emergency mode. And emergency mode meant bearing my soul to Josef's major domo.

"Hermes, man, I need your advice" I was shaking that the phone nearing clattered on my fangs that hadn't retracted. I was in a mood to say the least, "I think I nearly drained my date"

"Do you have O- blood on hand, Mr. St John?" his approach was dry, calculating.

"No, just A+" If a vamp could sweat, I would have. I couldn't stand when Coraline drained em and left em. I was on a first name basis with the entire Cleaner crew in the 50's and early 60's. I thought I had divorced myself from all of that. I paced, naked in the bedroom, almost feeling cold sweat covering my loins, by chest. If I had more than a sluggish heart beat I wouldn't be in this situation, but I almost felt like I needed a brown paper bag.

"What type was your guest?" again, ever so calm.

"A+" I was clutching the phone in one hand while covered Ali to stay warm.

"An A+ individual can receive blood only from individuals of groups A or O. I would recommend you keep some on hand for… … these type of circumstances, sir"

"I have A+, one bag" I was down the stairs perched at my reserve.

"Go ahead and transfuse her, I'll send over some backup" Hermes volunteered, no wonder he was Josef's main man.

And that was the reason I straightened up and "flew right" away from mortal women, it just gets too dicey when it tastes so damn good, their life force sings to me, their warmth, and their vitality….that tick-tock of their healthy hearts. It's all I want, to be human, mortal, corporal, finite in my humanity.

If I could have "thralled" her to believe it never happened I would have - so much for Hollywood balderdash, I was a guy with long fangs who could fuck all night but it always ended with my midnight snack, the pause that refreshed only me. And that was getting to be too rude an awakening the next day. No, no, no, it ain't me, babe, It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe. Those were my last words as I left the revived woman at her comfy Santa Monica apartment, why am I drawn to blondes from Santa Monica?

So I deserved the nasty note she penned on Crane stationary in a boarding school penmanship. At least I knew it wasn't a claim to be pregnant, the one upside of my nature.

"Mick-

Forget my name, forget my phone number-

If I had wanted your accountant to get this I would have used the PO Box, I wanted you to hold this is your cold dead hands, like you held me.

I know enough to keep my pretty little lips shut tight, just forget who I am and I'll forget you too.

Ali"

So, I was back to circling the clubs, feeding hard before I danced until dawn. Ali's scars were minimal; mine were lingering on my mind as scars lingered on a body or elsewhere on a heart.

By 1965 the music had grown stale, I wasn't playing – perhaps I should have picked up my guitar. I was retreating from humans to where my kind lurked. The garish light of day was like a bar after last call. I saw the trash without the treasure; I saw the body makeup as it rubbed off glorious naked bodies on my clothing.

Somewhere along the way the loft had gotten too small and my needs grown too big. Had I left those two women in the alley behind the Biltmore? Truth was I couldn't remember.

**_Go 'way from my window, Leave at your own chosen speed._**

**_I'm not the one you want, babe, I'm not the one you need._**

**_You say you're lookin' for someone never weak but always strong,_**

**_To protect you an' defend you whether you are right or wrong,_**

**_Someone to open each and every door, But it ain't me, babe, No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,_**

**_It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe._**

**_Go lightly from the ledge, babe, Go lightly on the ground._**

**_I'm not the one you want, babe, I will only let you down._**

**_You say you're lookin' for someone who will promise never to part,_**

**_Someone to close his eyes for you, someone to close his heart,_**

**_Someone who will die for you an' more,_**

**_But it ain't me, babe, No, no, no, it ain't me, babe, it ain't me you're lookin' for, babe._**

**_Go melt back into the night, babe, everything inside is made of stone._**

**_There's nothing in here moving an' anyway I'm not alone._**

**_You say you're looking for someone who'll pick you up each time you fall,_**

**_To gather flowers constantly an' to come each time you call,_**

**_A lover for your life an' nothing more, but it ain't me, babe,_**

**_No, no, no, it ain't me, babe, it ain't me you're lookin' for, babe….._**


	3. Chapter 3

_**The idle mind is a playground for the devil - do ya wanna get funky with me, do ya wanna?**_

Wine, women and song, a deadly trinity, the old man cogitated about the combinations; wine and women usually ended up in bed, women and song, well the bed was inevitable there too. Wine and song was about the safest duo of the three.

At this age, not many hours were spent enjoying all of them in the appetite he had once enjoyed. He lingered in the waning daylight this time of year; he wanted to lock time in the dark hours of December. Soon it would be the solstice, they'd be swathed in darkness for the bulk of the day and he'd seek the sweet council of the moon.

How many more Solstices did he have? How many more Moons?

**1974**

"Oh," she breathed finally, "I've wanted to touch you like this for such a long time!"

"Have you?" Was it really possible that she found me so desirable? When 1 leather clad Cleaner makes overtures to one of her regular customers, are they simply trying to draw on bead on my personality? Was she going back to the barracks to report on my various predilections to bet on future cleanups?

With one hand I reached up and removed the clips from her hair so that it fell loosely about her face, to her shoulders. I nuzzled that shimmering softness as she pressed close, and I felt her lips trailing an unnatural fire down my throat, to the hollow where she paused with slow kisses. One small, bold hand slipped into the opening of my shirt, pushing the fabric aside to caress me. I was so entranced that for a long moment I simply held her, head thrown back, reveling in the rush of new sensation.

Melody watched me with a profound and simple joy she could never have put into words. She knew that at any instant I might exercise my vampire control in this "dance". Savoring her moment, she ran her hand over my muscled chest... found the small softness of a nipple. My breath rasped in my throat as she leaned her head there, and sought it with her tongue.

She wanted to sweep that tongue all over me, I knew it and I was ready to let her, but she was no Lady Dawn. It was 1974 and Dawn hadn't returned my cards or the phone calls. The next thing I knew it was in the society pages, "Lady Dawn Marries" the Duke of some sad little duchy. I was no Duke and I knew he was no vampire, but that's the way the wind blew right? Daddy won.

Pressed so closely to me, she became aware of the growing evidence of my investment in this act. With a strangled sound of hubris I didn't even try to break away, but she clung to me. "Mick! Where's the bed?"

My voice was hoarse. "Up the stairs"

Desperately she pulled me around to face her. "Oh, Mick, sorry I don't know the lay of the land" and she knotted her hands in the silk scarf falling down the sides of my tuxedo " don't you realize how natural it is... and how it makes me feel, to know that you desire me too?"

I felt detached yet had to answer with something like attraction. "Could you ever have doubted it?"

She came back to me then, and snuggled warmly under my chin and down the length of my ready body. There was, still, that undeniable hardness growing down south; but she caressed me with her body only, pressing thigh to thigh, belly to belly, feeling the sweet, answering ache beginning deep inside her. Vampire women, damn, they work hard, they play harder.

My arms went round her slowly - slowly - and she turned her face into my chest, inhaling the scent of the tuxedo's dry cleaning, my after shave. I dropped my head to her shoulder - surrender? I had worked hard to give up mortal women and the feel of cool, hard flesh against me almost felt more detached . . as if being vampire equated to being the alone forever. It wouldn't be until I'd plow into her cool tight sex that I'd feel the way I felt when I was mortal.

Melody felt the bristles of my cheek, and my chilled breath, on the back of her neck. My cool hand traveled the length of her spine, coming to rest just below the small of her back; and to her secret delight, she felt the pressure there increase as I drew her in more tightly. But so gently... almost hesitantly, as though I still expected her to change her mind, to realize I was truthfully ambivalent this whole liaison.

She did, but only far enough to look up into my face as she reached for my lower shirt-buttons.

"Melody - "

"I want to see you, Mick," she whispered. "Please."

I stood silent, head slightly bowed, as she opened the garment. I didn't move as she eased the shirttails free of my trousers, and pushed it back off my shoulders. Could she scent the further we went, the further away I was?

"Didn't you want that bed?" I chuckled at her speed.

I awaited her judgment, humbly, watching her face for any signs of her realizing my ennui.

"Oh, God", she sighed, stepping back. "Mick," she breathed, "how can you not know how beautiful you are?"

My eyes widened disbelievingly, like a child's. My looks got me into this life, and frozen in time, they kept me in the game.

"Yes," she said. "You are."

I knew my shoulders were broad, my chest deep and well-muscled, and I didn't fight weight issues so that my waist seemed almost narrow. My cut physical presence stunned her, yet I was used to it. That damned "perpetual coolness". She did think I was beautiful - why I didn't question. I felt her need as it emanated from her. Her eyes, rising from my body to my face, were gleaming with desire. It was a look I'd seen in other faces before, and lately hadn't allowed myself to contemplate.

"Melody?"

She looked down and fumbled with the bodice of her dress where, I knew, a clasp was hidden by the geometric design. Her hands were swift and sure, yet they fumbled. What was there, I knew.

"Let me," I offered; but as I spoke the arrangement gave way, and the material glistening about her shoulders loosened abruptly. Then she was reaching up behind her, too, her slender body twisting to reach the zipper of the underdress.

I guess the first time I bedded a Cleaner I was surprised to find something other than black glossy leather. Beneath it she wore a brief ivory satin chemisette. For now I was enchanted. Growing up in the 20's-30's I'd seen functional cotton hanging on the laundry line. Girls I had undressed in the back of Pop's car wore predictable white nosecone brassieres out of the "sturdy and practical" collection from Sears catalog. It took meeting Coraline to see anything like this, silk and lace strategically woven to support lush full breasts. I wondered, was this standard issue under the leathers?

I held her still facing away, if I could keep my distance, I could distance the romance. My heart contracting at the feel their flesh meeting, brushing her hair aside, I bent to kiss the nape of her neck and she gasped, feeling the shape of my lips there, and the unmistakable sharpness of emerging fangs. Her head drooped, inviting me on.

My hands dropped to her waist - so slender, the skin so cool under the smooth fabric - and encompassed it easily. My mouth moved hungrily, lips and fang alternating, from her hairline to the point of her bare shoulder.

"Mick..." Reaching for my hand, she lifted it slowly.

I felt the foreign softness of her breast, the nipple tautening against my fingertip. After an instant of reacquainting myself with a vampire woman's flesh I accepted the gift she offered and caressed her as only the undead dared dream of doing. Her hand still covered mine there with the other and I drew her back into an embrace.

My hand was spread over the satin flatness of her belly. Melody arched sinuously; I felt her sluggish heart beat quicken, felt her buttocks pillowing the now-painful swelling at my fly.

She was doing it calculatingly.

It came over me in a rush, the force of her desire, the happenstance of our meeting - and with a sound more growl than groan, I buried his face in her hair.

After a moment she stirred... turned to face me. But when she would have come back into my arms I held her away. "I want to see you."

She saw, in my eyes, that I was enjoying her subtle mastery, this exercise of a couple of hundred years of teasing and pleasing a partner. She lifted her beautiful, nearly insolent chin... and dared me to look at her.

My gaze followed the smooth line of her timeless throat, down over the delicate wings of her collarbones. Her skin was glowing ivory, with hungry fingertips I traced the path my eyes had taken. CONTROL, I used that ultimate vampire control to touch her ever so lightly... slowly. She had expected the jagged and tumble roughhousing most of our kind engaged in, the biting, the hard wrestling that left a bedroom looking like a torture chamber.

"Oh, hold me!" she pleaded suddenly, throwing her arms around my neck, her lips on my throat, her body stretching against mine, her breasts finding the near still beat of my heart, her belly flat to my hardness and everywhere our skin met the electricity flowed, palpable. I felt like a fortress surrounding her. How could defeat and triumph be so mingled, and so sweet? Her skin was no less soft than the lambskin she wore - but fragrant with perfume and age and the call of her womanity. I breathed her in, savoring that intoxicating combination.

Without delay, she saw my gaze flicker toward the stairs, closer to the bed and back again, brazenly she demanded "Now, yes," she whispered. "Oh, yes."

She would always love the feeling of being carried in a vampire's arms so now I wrenched her suddenly into both my arms and took the stairs three at a time. Her whiskey voice moaned in expectation. I stood looking down at her, my face in the slatted shadows.

But... the mortal part of me wanted to lay back and let her take me, my undead nature wanted to dominate her, turn her over brusquely and plunder all of her depths. Melody knew that, she read the two sides of me bickering for control. Once I was at the foot of the bed I sought the sublime sweetness of her lips. Long, hard and sloppy, we kissed so long I hadn't realized she had wiggled out of my arms to kneel on the bed and pull me back over her.

This would be a tug of war and I would let her think she was winning. She sat up and, with calculated sensuality, drew the chemisette up and over her head... and lay back again, her eyes shining up clad only in her panties and a smile.

She was so pale, so delicate in every visual aspect...

"Mick," she said tenderly. "I'm lonely in this big bed."

I gave her a lopsided grin for the ploy that it was but came to stretch out alongside her. I bent to take off one boot, then the other; I must have seemed to be prolonging this task too far beyond her expectations, so she laid a sharp nail into the muscled indentation of my spine I straightened sharply. "What is it?" she asked.

"Melody." I turned "It's been a while." I hadn't ventured into a shared "bedroom" since I had transfused a mortal. Now, with my blood on fire and my body crying out for hers, I was conflicted. What she did next bowled me right over, leaning forward; she pressed her lips at the base of my spine.

Muscle memory and desire rocketed through me. "Melody" Her arm slipped round my waist, as though to embrace; her hand sought the unseen and impossible clasp of belt. I wasn't moving fast enough for the lady. I caught her, my hand covered hers, almost crushing it against the engraved metal. Then, letting out a long breath, I lifted her fingers away and undid the thing, whisking the leather through belt-loops with a whistle. She giggled as it thudded solidly to the floor.

"Come here," she whispered, kissing down my arm. "Come here and let me do bad things to you."

"To me? How about with me? I turned slowly, relinquished all power. The blue of her eyes transfixed me with her smolder and longing, and a sinfulness that took even a vamp's breath away.

"Listen to me," she said, easing nearer to his heat. "It will be all right. I want you to love me, Mick, all of me. I want to do everything with you."

"We will," I murmured thru lips locked to hers.

"Alright." She pulled out of the kiss to throw herself back onto the pillow. "Tonight." Her eyes were heavy-lidded, pleading. "I need you, Mick. Can you feel it?" She pulled my hand along the side of her breast, to rest possessively on the satin swell of her hip.

She pressed her fingers to my lips, silencing all protests. "This isn't a question we can answer by talking."

My eyes widened as the space between us narrowed.

"Mick, if you're afraid of hurting me, don't, and...I might enjoy a little pain," she admitted, her hand lingering on my cheek. "And I couldn't hide it from you, I'd only beg for more, but you didn't know that. But... my darling... I've been waiting for you, for you, for over two years."

I saw the color sweep upward from her throat, and realized with a thrill of delight that she was blushing.

"Then, Melody," I said softly, "Let the games begin" Once they did, they were rated NC17 for nudity, profanity and graphic sex on the verge of sad-masochism that even Coraline hadn't initiated me into.

We iced over the day and dropped the top to a club Josef recommended, "Studio One" in Los Angeles. The music pounded, almost as hard as I had slammed into Melody, but she gave as good as she got when she flipped me over and rode me hard, squeezing and scratching until we blew thru several white hot orgasms.

"Don't you have the coin for a new car, Mick?" her finger trailed the wood trim on the Benz. Sure it was 10 years old now, but it was my "Baby", she always cranked for me and there was a sense of freedom in the night with the air in my face. I shook my head as if I'd never consider it.

The disco sound was rising, punctuated by reverberated vocals over a steady "four-on-the-floor" beat, and a prominent, syncopated electric bass line. I recognized the Fender Jazz Bass and ached to cradle one in my arms, unlike Melody, the Fender didn't bite and scratch.

I envied the musician, plunking the disco bass lines, because the instrument itself has a very prominent 'voice' in the musical mix. Without opening his mouth this guy declared himself the coolest man in the room. My undead heart swelled with the rhythm of the strings, horns, electric piano, and electric guitars, I was nestled with a lush back beat infiltrating me, massaging my desolate soul, insulating me from the crowded disco, from the clinging woman beside.

"Bombay Martini" Melody demanded when the tinseled server towered over our dinner plate size table. Clubs had changed since Josef and I held court in a corner booth with the attentions of a Maître D, red coated Waiters and pert Cigarette girls.

"Glenfiddich" I gestured a tall one and sat back, tapping my jacket pocket to check for the vial of A+ to spike the drink. Melody snaked an arm around my shoulder and pushed a firm globe of her right breast into my arm while her hand trailed my upper thigh, I should have been flattered.

I didn't recognize a soul, I guess for a Thursday evening I shouldn't have expected it. Song after song drew the crowd to undulate and bounce off each other. The pheromones that were choking me were stoking Melody's ardor. It was too much, I had to close my eyes and bring myself out of the hyper stimulation.

Jazz, classical, calypso, rock, Latin, soul, funk, and new technologies replaced breathing musicians, just to name a few of the obvious — were all mingled with "cool". Yet I was missing any of the extremely serious socially-conscious commentary in the lyrics, Melody had buried her tongue in my ear as she goaded to take her to the back room.

The music layered soaring, often-reverberated vocals, as the alliterative words wormed into our ears I got it that Donna Summer "felt love", because the mantra drilled over and over while the beat hammered the words. No wonder those with a pulse were snorting and shooting anything they could to get juiced. I couldn't argue with a tipple of the A+ into the scotch and although it wasn't her choice Melody drank her gin a bit pink.

I had to wince at the lyrics, "I was born, born to be alive", and as I nodded to the ironic stanzas Melody caught my cock, trapping it within my tropical wool trousers and stroked half time to the beat. I drew her up close and she fell into my lap, no longer satisfied with feeling thru fabric what she had grown so accustomed to holding within herself. The physical strumming of her lips, her tongue and her fingertips met the "wall of sound" with shattering results.

Then before I could "recover", she ran the back of her jeweled hand over her lips and settled back on her ankle strapped platforms and gave me a hazy gaze. "Return the favor?" she lip spoke in the din. I winked, having enough decorum to seek cover while giving face, yet now quite enough to stop her from hoovering me at the table. "Give me a few, huh, Mick?" she demurred and I extended a hand to help her up, it was the old world manners in me. She turned and sped off down the body-packed hall.

I stared at the sea of bodies, all of them pre-fucking each other with their eyes and intentional hip checks. I drained the single malt then boldly drew the flask to my lips, quenching my hunger with straight up A+. Fangs descended and I dropped back to the back of the booth, savoring the moment.

"Are you St. John?" the blonde coed kneeled onto the chair Melody had occupied and whispered in my ear, I jolted that a mortal could sneak up on me. Where had I "gone"?

I jumped back at the blue eyed blonde, she was all of about 22 or 23, luscious and ripe I had to curtail my natural reaction to her up close and personal. "Yeah, yeah, what do you want?" I had lost my edge, my cool. Blondes didn't usually unnerve me.

"You need to see this" She was woven of anxiety and unease as she extended her hand to me, it was plump, warm, with a sheen of designer fragrance sweat worn in discos.

The ladies' restroom was opulent and currently crowded with gawkers, the little blonde left me, diverting her eyes as I gaped at the mirror's message scrawled in fuscia lipstick, it wasn't Mel's color.

"If anything happens to me, Mick St John did it" a frantic scrawl across 6 feet of gleaming mirror.

I looked around as the women dispersed like roaches. "Who wrote that?" I broadcasted all of them, none of them in particular. Their eyes bugged, their braless bosoms jiggled with their fleeing footsteps.

I stood alone, save one woman snorting something in the last stall. She gave a courtesy flush and left the stall adjusting her skirt as if she had accomplished her business on the toilet and not on a pocket mirror. The red eyed brunette wiped her upper lip and licked her hand then steadied herself and shot me a look, "Hey, mister, this is the ladies' room".

"Sure, wonder where all the ladies went" I retorted as I turned on my heel and split. Sniffing out Melody I followed a trail of saliva and cum her fingertips invisibly trailed along the wall. The scent ended at an exterior door I kicked open, not wanting to leave fingerprints. In the starless night I stood alone, Melody nowhere in sight.

If good things take time, bad things happen immediately. Management and too many revelers had seen the accusation and when I returned to the club's front door the little blonde was looking guilty as hell.

"Mr. St John?" the club manager asked, knowing full well it was me by the blonde's nod. "There seems to be a problem" and that was no understatement. I was ushered to a room; one of those marked "private parties" and found Melody. Her neck had been bisected, her pose painful to view.

"Who…." I stammered.

"We know you're family" the manager sniffed, we've had to call the Cleaners and I respectfully ask you to stay, if you choose not to I had been authorized to detain you." In his gloved hand he wielded a silver coated mahogany stake. I was compelled to be the gentleman Edna St John raised, knowing full well I didn't do it.

The Cleaner advanced, professionally for now, "We take this seriously, she is one of us" She tapped the pen on the small notebook as she dispatched the crew to the scene of the crime.

"So I get my rights, what else?" I sniffed for a hint of her mood.

"This is vampire justice, you have the right to remain silent but it can also be your undoing – What happened, Mick?"

She cut her eyes to see we were alone, "Melody was. . . . .different" Great, of all the leather clad ladies of L.A. I got the different one.

"We closed the club, they're swabbing the rooms, and we'll escort you to your home. Josef and a few others will be waiting for us"

It was the sport of kings, or perhaps dissident third world Presidents…. I was basically being held for the murder of another of my kind and even though I got the feeling Melody was as "different" as the Cleaner declared. . . . . . I would still have a chance to burn at the end of a flamethrower.

Lovers, the right home and jackpot financial opportunities rise seemingly by the merest chance and you're transformed. Men confront their destinies at an allotted place and time and after my honeymoon I wasn't sure what else was out there for me. So now this crime happened as if some power in the universe were controlling even the slightest circumstance, so that my immortal destiny could be snipped. I remember waking up "undead", wishing I were dead and now twenty something years later I was looking at getting my wish.

All the jagged parts of my life, this brooding over Melody's murder had dulled my mind. I caught Josef's text message in the elevator "Don't say anything; I've brought in one of our own". I entered the loft alone, to find an assortment of people planted on my furniture. Josef's eyes had that "between" look, stunned by the news that I was being held on a capital charge.

For most criminals the legal system and anything but a prosaic process, the criminal meets the counsel and the strategies begin. I was meeting my "mouthpiece" as the inquisition was about to begin. If something is meant to be, a mere turning away cannot forestall it. I thought about taking off, evading them, besmirching Josef's name, relocating in some Alaskan cave for about 100 years. Then figured, this could be it, take it like a man. For the mosaic of my life to be completed, there must come a day when the right step is taken at the light time.

"Mick, this is Guillermo" Josef brokered the introductions, "He's our fluids expert". Then he brought forward a guy who looked like he missed curfew, "Logan is our systems guy, you know the new thing is computers and he'll track all sorts of things down for you" Then sotto vocce Josef cupped his hand over his mouth, "Don't ask him to explain anything he does, just pay the man".

Logan didn't even weigh the slight, just stuck out a clammy hand after Guillermo finished a two handed shake.

"Before the ladies invade I need you to know, Melody had a line of vamps jumping to perform the service they accuse you of committing. So I have representation coming" Josef was his usual orchestrator, why hadn't he spilled this BEFORE I romanced the woman?

"Great, I was the dolt dancing in the dark with damaged goods?" I slid open the door and grabbed a fresh pint, leaned against the counter and drank it like a juice box. I was beat down and about to be beat up.

Josef flipped the notepad from his breast pocket, "She had a run in with a drug dealer, Franco, someone selling vamp blood. He threatened her, and then was recorded as relocated." Josef blanched at the news, nothing like making Vamps front page news.

"No new addresses for Franco, we believe Melody exercised a little vampire justice on her own and perhaps this is retribution" Logan's confidence belied his baby face and the fact stuck in my craw, it seemed like the best lead because I certainly did not cause old Mel to lose her head.

With that, a knock at my door and the image of leather clad women drew across the security monitor. "Showtime" Josef intoned as I popped open the door.

"So, Mick we are sequestering you here until the facts are collected. We appreciate the intelligence about Franco" The redhead was emphatic. I was the one with the curfew now and being alone in a darkened room, alone would give me plenty of time to examine my conscious. It was a little like the Confessional for the Sacrament of Penance, only I hadn't done anything this time.

I watched the look roll from Logan to Guillermo to Josef and then to me. I knew I had to sit tight and let them sniff down the clues trail. The Cleaners left, sure in their knowledge that I would sit tight of course when Josef Kostan posts bond I pay attention very closely.

3:09am, Logan called, "We've got a line on the Franco's ex, a spunky little party Vamp by the name of Suzi, but she was in London when this all came down and no money ties back to any of this".

Of course my undead heart sunk, because being accused of murder in this life means no parole, no time off for any kind of behavior. I dropped my head into my hands when Logan continued, "But, Antoinette, his sister was in the area and they mixed their money according to what I uncovered."

"Mixed their money?" Guillermo's brow peaked at that comment. "There is no way I would mix cash with my sister, when would I need to invest every dime in platform shoes?" Josef's eyes glinted at the thought of platform shoes and what sprung upward from such awkward footwear.

I leaned forward from the sofa, as if it would take us closer to nailing Mel's murderer. "What?" was the extent of my intelligent discourse?

"I'll send my second best people out" Josef volunteered, tapping on the arm of the chair.

"Second best? Thanks, Josef that fills me with promise for my vindication" My untimely demise was looming closer minute by minute.

"My best guy is here" Josef countered, rounding an arm around my shoulder, when our eyes connected I saw his concern and brotherly love.

Left alone the hours droned on. They trusted me to stay put, without even threatening to nail my feet to the floor. Left to my own devices, I regarded the angular bookcase full of books that I had meant to read one day. Reading wouldn't hold my attention span tonight. I picked at a cuticle just to watch it bleed and heal, picked it again to watch the ivory flesh melt back together again. I did it until the first threads of an orange sunrise filtered thru the grates, then I relinquished my body to an icy shower and the solemnity of the freezer.

I didn't expect anything to snap back this quickly; when I rose at dusk there were several messages. Before I had the nerve to play the messages back I thought about exit strategies.

In 1969 Coraline had insisted on dragging me to "HAIR". The Anti-war sentiment rankled me and when I felt strangled by the theatre performance I fled. Through a sort of cosmic punishment in Central Park I ran into a pack of rogues, ended up staked only to be rescued by Vincent. New York. . . . .the glancing thought of taking the red eye to New York and throwing myself at the mercy of a beastly* looking guy who lived truly underground flashed for a millisecond. Could I spend 40 or 50 years hiding in tunnels under Central Park? If the light at the end of the tunnel was the train headed for me, perhaps I'd be thinking that way. I hit the "play" button and listened.

"Mick? It's G, call the morgue" he left the message without the number, as if I was supposed to know it.

"Mr. St John, say the magic word and the bird comes down" The kid, Logan, did a poor Groucho Marx impersonation. "I need to speak with you directly; I'll be over by moonrise"

Deep in our heart, we have this insuppressible need to fly, mine was growing exponentially.

I expected the kid, Logan when I heard the elevator open. It wasn't Josef's boy wonder; it was a rather nervous looking vampire who looked like he had missed a couple of meals.

"Who is it?" I waited for the skeezy looking character to focus on the front door camera, cease the furtive "over the shoulder" glances he cast.

"Jeb Tuller" he whispered.

"Do I know you, Jeb?" I shot back.

"No, you don't. . . .Mr. St John, this isn't a conversation that needs to go through a door, if you know what I mean" He stammered and shifted from one foot to the other, again with the over the shoulder looks.

I clicked open the door and led this guy to my office, "You look hungry, have you fed today?" I wanted to keep him at arm length.

"No, it's been a while" Jeb sniffed the room for evidence of living blood, catching none his expression fell.

It wasn't fussing to get the man a tall tumbler of O+, I didn't need a hungry houseguest to disturb the neighbors. Once he drank his fill, a more healthy pallor washed over him. He didn't fidget like a junkie and his eyes opened wide waiting to spill his secrets to me.

"I knew Melody" his confession was tinted with sadness.

"She was trouble" he was emphatic.

"We had a few months together, it was good, then bad then amazing then horrendous" Another guy who discovered the darkness and light of women.

"So, what's it all about, you knocking on my door?" What's to trust, I thought.

"Melody had done a few slick things and she had a few enemies, I think it was Clayton who took her out, he just drew a name out of the hat, you know, "Mel's next hot guy", then he set you up." The guy was emphatic – it was nothing personal, I was just the "next hot guy".

"And I should believe you because?" by now I was reared back in my desk chair, scenting the air for falsehoods, sniffing none I balanced tenuously in life and on the desk chair.

"Because he nearly framed me in the past and it was just dumb luck I had an alibi that was airtight" by now Jeb had drained about a half a bottle of Bacardi 151 from his rucksack.

"And I still don't understand why you're here" a flick of my tongue over a half descended fang made him jump. Just for shits and giggles I let my eyes silver over and he reached to grip the edge of the desk.

"I can give you his address, you know, you can handle yourself. I can tell, you know?" Jeb was one of those junkie vamps; I remembered the shakes from the musicians I hung out with in the 50's. Only now his type drank the blood of the lowest class of Freshies, the addicts. Jeb was jonesing for something other than straight plasma.

He slid a business card across the desk and I slipped it between two fingers. It was one of those cheap business cards for Auto Detailing with a junkie's scribble across the back where the detailing appointment should be. He sat like he was awaiting payment.

"Look, I know a place, you could get clean – otherwise you've got the life expectancy of a girl off the bus from Ohio" I peered over the business card, watching his reaction, it was jerky as his lip twitched and his shoulders shook. I withdrew a blank white index card and jotted the phone number of a swell broad who dried out junkie vamps.

Silently he palmed it and stood up, realizing I wasn't paying for info at least in hard currency. He shouldered his haversack and nodded, then turned on his worn heel and split.

"Josef, had a visitor and I'm waiting for Logan and this guy arrived first, call me" Josef's answering machine clicked and I could have sworn he had screened the call. I was feeling like last month's disco wear: stained, stretched, and burned.

"Olly, Olly, Oxen Free" Josef rapped the back of his knuckles on my door, feigning a jejune grin into the camera.

When he dropped the insulated bag on the island I knew he was burrowing in. "Should I have ordered a freezer?" I issued a dose of sarcasm, just in case he did.

"This is all of the pleasure of Monique, without the incessant giggling, drink up I'm on tenterhooks waiting to hear your news", fending for himself he poured two tumblers of Monique and offered me one.

We traded talk, then Josef made a few phone calls – sure enough, once Logan showed his perennially uber-youthful face we confirmed the name and address.

"Come on, Josef, crack my bail so I can smother the bastard" I went chin to chin with Josef, knowing he wasn't one to turn to fisticuffs to settle a discussion, perhaps he'd cave….

"Let's let the hired help handle this" Josef discreetly slid the folded card into his pocket and shrugged off the provocation.

"You'd let my innocence hang?" it was all I could stammer, thinking I was already dead, I might as well be executed.

"It's not hanging, Mick, knowing this" Josef tapped his breast pocket, "Means it's a job done right" so with a firm fatherly hand on my shoulder I felt Josef's dedication to my vindication. It was all in his eyes and the grip he exerted and the power calmed me. "It means when the head is severed it's severed cleanly, no blood on your hands". When Josef Kostan walked out of my loft he left me with equal parts peace and fear, because the "head" wasn't severed yet.

Rambling up the stairs the roar of silence drove me to sit-ups, pushups, pull-ups until I nearly broke a sweat, totally uncommon for the undead. The idea of being judged and found guilty drowned all logic, I tried to tell myself it's wasn't the stake or the flamethrower with my name on it that vexed me. It was the one that said "To whom it may concern."

Caught in the shower, the phone jarred what little peace I had reclaimed with exhaustion. I trembled as my hand caught up the receiver and stayed the ringing. I heard the voice before I had the will to raise the receiver. "Mick, we'll be by to pick you up. Dress ready for court" Josef's voice was stern. The tone like Teeth at the skin, Expectation fueled by the hunger for that flesh. I've heard the sound of a vampire's bite was like the chomp of an apple, and I wondered between the vamp and the "apple", would it be the "apple" that endured?

My mouth held the taste of hard cider, the coppery blood long gone to warm and thrill me. The melt-in-my-mouth fluid had fueled my waiting for Josef and all of the night's undertakings. My loft was no longer the buzzing "hive" and I was encircled by foreshadowing stillness as I dressed for the solemnity of "court".

Ekaterina, the pert one, rapped on the door, I recognized her from the bob of her titian pony tail as she cut a look back to the stair well. The long, cool woman in black patent leather wore suspicion as Coraline wore Chanel #5. It just came naturally for her after a couple hundred years of cleaning up for the careless side of the "family". "St. John, while we're young" she barked, still roving an eye behind her.

I opened the door and adjusted my shirt collar, depending on the verdict; I really wouldn't have to lock up. Found guilty, I'd be incinerated on the spot – no lengthy trials or appeals. The Cleaning crew would sweep the loft of any personal items and someone on the Relo list would be "installed" within 36 hours. Auctions would handle furniture and household goods; the proceeds returned to the "family" coffer to cover the cost of cleanup and trial. It choked me up just a bit that I could be the undead man walking.

The ride was silent, no offered beverages from the bar, no raucous music, no Freshies pushed into my lap. This all did not bode well, I felt.

The back of the warehouse held false walls encompassing an area the size of a wrestling ring, only this wrestling would be verbal. Apposing tables faced each other with a leather clad Mediator standing at a podium.

My defense team looked like Solid Gold Dancers; the other guy looked like he had drawn the short straw at a community college Science Essay Contest. If I was nervous, this guy, in his 40's (or so) exhibited his lack of serenity as he licked at cracked lips and squirmed in his hickory chair. It had to be the guy Jeb fingered.

"We call this Court of the Greater Los Angeles Tribal Authority to adjudicate the Death of one Melody Emerson and the Libel of Michael Clifford St John".

I sat within the tempest of two hired mouth pieces, tit for tat they threw questions at each of us. I parked myself with hands folded in front of me, short, sharp, distinct answers fired back at the Magistrate.

"You were out with the victim that evening, what activities did you engage in?"

"Dinner, drinks and a dance"

"Did she excuse herself to go to the bathroom?" that was a trick question; she was heading for a private room for a little horizontal lolly gagging.

"Melody did excuse herself to reserve a private room" I ventured the truth to be the best option.

"She in fact did not head in that direction?" a dry eyed Attorney masked any expression.

"No" Cut and dry, she had headed toward the east wing, not the north end of the club.

"Then you were expecting what that evening, Mr. St John?" the eyes of the Attorney lit up, imagining the salacious details.

"I enjoyed the lady's company, she enjoyed mine. It was a mutual arrangement"

My head spun, they volleyed accusing words back and forth as I dry mouthed the answers to the best of my ability.

"The Magistrate will now take a few moments in his chamber" The stiff redhead spoke a bit figuratively, there were no other "chambers" visible, he simply headed toward an area curtained off by pipes and drapes. Even vamp hearing didn't divulge anything to me.

Josef and I sat, staring the paint off the decrepit walls. The smell of past manufacturing illustrated the human sweat and toil in the decades these walls fostered the working men and women. I could feel the frustration and pain as the doors were shackled and the workers were dispersed. Nothing like going out of business, was I "going out of business"?

The guy across from me was beginning to get the shakes. It wasn't drugs, it wasn't hunger it was the simple truth that he knew he had shot his chances when he was prodded into this warehouse. He knew his time was dwindling, regardless of what they thought of me.

The time spun anxious spider webs in my mind. Then the clip, clip, clip of high dollar shoes resonated across the concrete floor. Two cleaners encircled the guy with the nervous tic and picked him up by his armpits. The poor slug didn't even fight, it was a foregone conclusion. They stood him up and I took the hint, I stood and shook myself to attention. My hands dug into my pants pockets then I shook my belt to let my trousers settle. I felt my eye twitch, my lip quiver, at least they didn't send anyone to stand me up.

"By threatening to expose your brothers and sisters you have endangered the safety and security of our entire community" The tone of voice cut before any flames could.

"Harland Girard, we find you guilty of the Death of one Melody Emerson and the Libel of Michael Clifford St John. Our secrecy is all we have, it's all that keeps us alive, the crime is murder and libel, the penalty is death".

I felt an undead shiver down my spine for the poor goof. He should have indulged in a little mattress worship instead of putting his feet on the floor the day he took out Melody. I waited for something to come back to me; you know the proverbial "other shoe to drop". All I felt was Josef's presence as we stood there, watching them chain this guy to the chair. He was stoic; he had to have parked his emotions at the door. No cries for leniency or a second chance, he sat dry eyed and ready.

I watched the crew move in, more black leather moving sinuously in unison, one shouldering a righteous weapon, primed and ready to belch judgment. The heavy odor of gasoline hung in the oily back atmosphere and we waiting until the Magistrate made a single nod.

"You don't have to watch" Josef sniffed, his hands folded at his belt buckle, only a shoulder to the tableau.

"It was about me, about Melody, I kind of have to" Just to know it was over, I watched.

With a graceful heft the brunette scorched the wretched bastard. One, two, three, four, five, six….he was ash.

You can't choose your family; you can choose your friends. Melody had been a friend I had casually chosen, when it went south it turned grim. I don't remember human relationships being this dark.

So far I had a botched marriage, a nearly fatal vamp/human relationship and a failed vampire relationship. I was pondering if they had Monasteries for vampires…

_**The lady smiled at me when she asked about the possibility that we might spend some time alone**_

_**And oh the thoughts that filled my head when she looked in my eyes and slowly said**_

_**Do ya wanna get funky with me, do ya wanna...woah!**_

_**The idle mind is a playground for the devil Do ya wanna get funky with me, do ya wanna?**_

_**Do ya wanna get funky?**_

_**The way she spoke to me told me I had the opportunity to see how funky she could be**_

_**And when I looked into her eyes the fire they held made me realize her flame was burning just for me**_

_**The lady tempted me I closed my eyes, it was plain to see she was the devil in disguise**_

_**And oh the message she'd relay when she would take my hand and say**_

_**Do ya wanna get funky with me, do ya wanna?**_

_**The idle mind is a playground for the devil do ya wanna get funky with me, do ya wanna?**_

_**I wanna set ya on fire, "Cause it's hot, Cause it's hot", I wanna set ya on fire, "Cause it's hot, Cause it's hot"**_

_**I wanna set ya on fire, "Cause it's hot, Cause it's hot", I wanna set ya on fire, "Cause it's hot, Cause it's hot"**_

_**I wanna set ya on fire, "Cause it's hot, Cause it's hot"**_

_**It's so hot I'm burning up, It's so hot I'm burning up, It's so hot I'm burning up, up**_

_**It's so hot I'm burning up, up, It's so hot I'm burning up, up, It's so hot I'm burning up, up, up**_

_**It's so, so, hot, hot I'm burning, burning up, up, It's so, so, hot, hot I'm burning, burning up, up**_

_**It's so, so, hot, hot I'm burning, burning up, up, It's so, so, hot, hot I'm burning, burning up, up**_

_**It's so, so, hot, hot I'm burning, burning up, up, It's so, it's so hot I'm burning up, Oh no no no...**_

_**I wanna set you on fire, cause it's hot, cause it's hot, cause it's hot**_

_**I felt the heat within, the lust of love and the urge to sin; I felt her reachin' for my soul**_

_**And then I knew I had no choice, but to heed the command of the devil's voice**_

_**Do ya wanna get funky with me, do ya wanna, do ya wanna, do ya wanna?**_

_**The idle mind is a playground for the devil, do ya wanna get funky with me, do ya wanna get funky**_

_**Do ya wanna get funky with me, do ya wanna?**_

_**The idle mind is a playground for the devil, Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh,**_

_**do ya wanna get funky with me, do ya wanna? Do ya wanna get funky with me?**_

*The Bigger Beast (A Moonlight / Beauty and the Beast Crossover story)


	4. Chapter 4

If there was one thing the old man's folks taught him, it was that grace could be found in the damndest places. Yes, that's what his Dad has said when the returning war vet confessed all his wartime transgression. "Son, you'll find forgiveness from the most unlikely sources, the heart that damns you today could turn with the sunrise and bless you that night. Never give up hope" it was the last deep conversation he had with his Father.

Now those words wormed thru his ancient brain as his fingers moved the beads of the Rosary from hand to hand, his lips repeating "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us Sinners, now at the hour of our death, amen". He recited the Rosary each evening; it gave him something positive, something soothing to his heart to do. Perhaps he should have been a Monk.

**1980**

I picked up the LA Times, there discretely in the Society page was a description of a small reception, it seemed that one Lady Dawn Hallowell was now a Duchess and she and her Duke were biding their time on a yacht off of Carmel. Somehow the society page caught wind of the couple and their twins, Bernadette Esme and Michael John. I got a chuckle on her son's name. At least he didn't have to put up fisticuffs about an overtly odd name like his sister. I knew full well where she got the "MJ", but wondered if the Duke had laid claim to naming his daughter….and where the Duke had stashed the original "Bernadette Esme".

The 14 year old twins were paraded like prize pony stock, I guess the USA had their fill of American Royalty, the Kennedys and were embracing this handsome royal family. I folded the paper to the photo of the handsome kids romping in the cobalt blue waters and tried to remember why I hadn't shown up on Dawn's doorstep in 1965. It might have had something to do with being undead; Vampires make a hell of a son in law.

"Mick, boyo, you need a night out, something with some umphhhhh", Josef emphasized the "umph" with a push of his index finger. I resiliently took a step backward, circulating around the barrel chair on the patio. It was near midnight and I had no room for a jet flight to Vegas. I wanted to keep my money in my pocket.

"That's OK, I think I'll catch the second set down at the club and hit the ice" I flipped my keys out of my pocket and swung the key chain on my pinkie.

"You are no fun, do I need a new wing man?" Josef scanned the dark vista before us and nodded to a fairly energetic swimmer in a blue swimsuit. With zeal she pulled herself out of the water and shook the pool water off herself to accentuate her statuesque physique.

"Wing man? Is that a 24/7 job now?" I propped myself in the doorway and watched Josef's technique, he is the master of seduction and dining. Even I'm in awe when he draws his meal into his lap and proceeds to warm her living blood with his erotic attentions.

I had to shift the hitch in my giddy-up at the sight of her surrendering to his bite and that was a cue that I needed to go grab a bite before I sat down for some cigars and jazz. Perhaps tonight I'd look for something robust and blonde.

If meeting the "right" girl was fate, Kathleen was fate's intercession. Some other place, somewhere, some other time she would have been the one to settle down, build a picket fence and plan for those flaxen haired babies to fill our arms. Her innate goodness drove me to go back to school to earn something of a respectable education and expand my PI business to more than being Josef's Bounty Hunter. Knowing Kathleen made me a better person even though I was of the night-dwelling persuasion.

For three years I had stuffed the horrid tales of past romances into a closet behind my Army chest and stepped into 1980 within the gentle fold of her arms. We had begun oh so slowly, and this night was our first time "together" after so many near misses. I had taken her to dinner, someplace in her neighborhood and while feigning no hunger to the waiter I watched her gracefully eat as I moved a small meal around a plate.

Once we had returned to the Benz with my meal in a doggy bag the gentle games of seduction began.

"So, here we are. . . . . .in front of your building. . . . . .You aren't taking me home?" Kathleen sighed clutched the doggie bag on her pert knees.

"Not if you don't want to go home. Did you want to go home?" My hand crept along the back of the car seat, toward her blond waves spilling on her shoulders.

"Did you want me to finish "The Bourne Identity?" She was baiting me, as shy as she was, she was baiting me. We had come so close to this age old dance before, I figured tonight just might be "the" night. Throughout dinner I caught the hints, the upswept hair, the new perfume, the bralessness when she usually wore an underwire to tame those 36 D's.

"You feel like reading tonight? I thought we'd watch something, perhaps watch the two of us in each other's eyes?

"I feel. . . . . .like doing something different tonight" Kathleen's blue, blue eyes danced in the streetlights. The top was down and we were enjoying the night air.

"Different it is" I proclaimed as I turned the Benz into the underground garage. My fingers and toes tingled in anticipation of us being together.

It all meant so much I didn't even remember us leaving the car or the ride up to the loft.

I kissed Kathleen then, feather light, and then more deeply; a hand slipped down, along smooth satin, to cup a marvelous fullness, and bring her hips into uncompromising contact with my own.

Her clothes were secondary, they were dispatched with such economy you would have thought they were stripper's stunt clothes. That's what hunger does.

There was a sound in her throat, like a sob, as we kissed. She knotted her fingers in my curls, pulling me closer, wanting to feel the hair of my chest against her aching breasts, the weight of my body over hers. She felt the force of my desire, still hidden, pressed to her thigh, and the throbbing between her own legs became almost painful. "Mick - "

Not answering - at least not with words - my mouth descended her throat, lingering over the pulse racing visibly, palpably, there... and then, pressing back into the pillow, I tasted for the first time her exquisite breasts, as they seemed to strain toward me. My tongue circled the shell-pinkness of her erect nipples for what seemed an eternity before I closed my eyes and sucked one slowly.

The sensation - the bristled softness of my face against her flesh, the building heat of my mouth and the sharpness of my teeth - was unbelievable. She arched against me, gasping; her fingers twined in the wildness of my curled hair as I teased first one hardening bud, and then the other.

Meanwhile, below, I'd discovered the elastic band of her satiny thong. I slipped searching fingers beneath it, behind her, and cupped her bottom with a naked palm. My hand was almost large enough to cover her, there. She felt her hips wriggle back into my caress - she couldn't help it - inviting me to explore that humid cleft.

Staggered, I raised my head from her breast, seeing that her head was thrown back, her watching eyes heavy-lidded, her lips swollen with desire. She moved into my hand again, and lifted her hips slightly from the bed. I sat up and gazed into her face for a long moment... then deftly peeled the soft under-garment down over her hips. She arched her body to make it easier; felt the satin and my fingertips passing lightly, erotically, over her thighs and calves...

I stared down at Kathleen in wonderment. She was a friend's former Freshie and we had been on again, off again. She read to me nothing more for so many months. Then one night we cracked. We cracked under the strain of watching each other over the pages of books and goblets of wine. I had come home well fed and totally indulged, so I hadn't "needed" what we were doing. We were doing what called so many other lovers to do, slow lingering foreplay was leading to something ripe and hot.

She was trembling, quick breaths lifting her breasts, her skin flushed and glowing... everywhere. "You are so beautiful."

I had finally reconciled with Blonds, they weren't unnerving me as much as they seemed to in earlier decades. After years and years of Redheads and Brunettes, I was enjoying a woman who surprisingly enjoyed me. There were no pretenses. Kathleen hadn't hung around my loft with hints to turn her; Kathleen Tully simply hung around because we enjoyed each other. Right now I was enjoying her rip breast. Kathleen reached for my wrist; brought my hand to her lips, then pressed it to her breast.

I teased the tautened nipple gently, tracing delicate fiery paths across her skin... over the roundness there, down her ribcage to the smooth flat belly that quivered expectantly at m touch... and finally to the blonde triangle of springy curls below. The carpet matched the drapes. I covered it with his hand, and felt her rise a little against my palm.

But the pressure at my groin was growing almost unbearable now. She saw my dilemma in the mingled longing and consternation in my face; and smiling, reached out to touch me there.

A forced breath left me in a groan as I caught her hand. " - !"

"Take them off, love."

I slid from the bed; sliding out of my trousers, and drew them down with a shy reluctance she found irresistible. Stepping out of them, I turned and stood there silver in the moonlight, taking her breath away.

To her I was magnificent. A lifetime of working out developed broad shoulders and my chest tapered to a taut waist and hips... She sat up slowly, her expression rapt. The hair that curled brightly over my chest and belly, thickened toward my groin; and from this dark profusion my shaft arose, proud in spite of our fresh relationship, perfect and beautiful. I knew I was very large, there... but I knew I could be gentle with this slip of a young woman.

Swaying a little toward me, she smiled. Her heart seemed to slow to a deep and languorous rhythm, beating not only in her chest but elsewhere, everywhere I heard it, I felt it as her fingers clenched in the hem of the sheet.

Gazing down into her slitted green eyes, I knew suddenly that it was going to be all right, that her marble stillness was born of something far removed from revulsion or fear. Her eyes drank me in, a deliberate caress, and it was as though time had stopped, or she thought it had -

"Kathleen," I growled a voice half-choked with impatience, a plea for mercy, and mirth.

"I can't seem to stop looking at you," she taunted me, her voice unexpectedly throaty; and she held out her arms and I came to her, catching her up with the swiftness that always surprised her, stilling her laughter with my demanding mouth, one hand in her hair and the other cradling her hips.

Fitted to me head to toe, we gloried in the feel of my chest against her bare skin... my maleness, unashamedly hard and hot against her thigh. Her senses were reeling and if my kiss went on much longer she was going to faint...

She caught a handful of hair at either side of my head and gently forced me back; and before I could protest she'd moved to run her mouth down the alabaster of my neck, feeling my hand seeking her breasts again as her tongue sought my nipple, feeling my chest muscles tense beneath her cheek as she drew the reluctant nub between her teeth...

Behind me her hands roved my back, stroking the length of my spine with her nails, moving to cup my cool muscled buttocks that clenched with my surprise... She held me to her then, suddenly still, her head finding the broad shoulder that had so often offered a different sort of comfort; telling me with every part of her, but without words, that I was what she wanted, was all she'd ever wanted, all of me, like this. Embracing me, she had opened her thighs and captured my heated length there, letting me relish the fervid dampness as her entire body seemed to melt and flow toward me.

"Kathleen," I rumbled into her hair, holding her slight body along mine. Looking down, I could see my own hand spread against the pale skin of her back; and below, perfect twin moons... there, where she clasped me with a beckoning and incredible heat. Her hips moved, ever so slightly, and I clenched back my formidable teeth against the answering thrust of my own pelvis. Not yet, I supposed.

I drew away, hearing her kittenish sound of protest. "Shhh," I hushed her gently. Now it was my turn, and I tormented her tenderly, rediscovering tastes and textures, my hair falling forward, trailing back and forth over her impatient breasts. Gently I turned her onto her stomach, and began a further, leisurely exploration of her.

She felt the hair of my chest against her back; felt me brush her hair aside to nuzzle the nape of her neck, and she shivered with delight. Kissing any lingering tension from her shoulders, I stroked the slender slope of her back with fingernails, following with my lips the delicate line of her spine downward. She buried her face in my pillow. The unseen kisses were like starbursts on her skin; and since she had no way of knowing where I might next put my mouth, the suspense increased her excitement a hundredfold.

She shivered again as I lingered over the small of her back, nibbling the dimpled concavity. My right hand cupped her bottom warmly, my thumb lying gently in the indentation dividing her there. She laid waiting, her outstretched legs slightly parted, willing herself to be still... but wondering wildly what I might do next.

Kathleen knew that I had taken a while "off", something about some bad experiences with a Freshie, a Cleaner and a Vampire. Seemed I had hit the trifecta of botched romances….so it had been a while since I had "shared" myself with a woman and yet my actions bespoke more than mere reticence. More than that, more even than my desire to give her pleasure, was my need to rediscover what sharing we could enjoy, to discover her completely; to learn every inch of this woman and let her learn every crease and length of me.

My kisses fell lightly, softly, unhurriedly down the backs of her thighs all the way to her knees, and I knew she could hear her own ragged breathing. I moved upward again to brush my cheek over the soft swell of her buttocks. Nuzzling there, teasing with tiny nips, I smiled unseen as her muscles clenched in helpless reaction.

She felt my hands, so deft and cool, parting her there... and opening her thighs a little further, she moaned to feel my breath along her innermost reaches. She rolled her face against the pillow, her hands gripping the bedclothes as with one finger I stroked downward into that sweet cleft, following it with pervasive kisses, pressing her wider...

"Oh, Mick," she gasped, needing to say it, finding even the sound of my name exciting. She felt me move upward suddenly, and thought perhaps I would turn her to face me now... but instead my hand slipped beneath to seek her breast; and settling my weight a little, only a little, to one side, I covered her from behind with my body. One hard-muscled leg rose to cover both of hers and she slipped her hand round the knee she could reach, to caress the damp and sensitive skin behind it. My hardness pressed up hotly, impertinently, between her thighs and although my chest heaved at her back, I held myself still, so still, against her there. Tenderly kneading her breast, I felt the tip growing maddeningly erect against my palm. I brought taunt lips and teeth back to nuzzle the nape of her neck, it was the most intimate of embraces; beneath me she was gladly held prisoner.

Her warm, satiny bottom pillowing my thighs, my length cleaving to the hidden heat of her body... I closed my eyes and shuddered against the compulsion to move, to thrust into her... to give in to the passion I had fought so hard to restrain. Each decade had shoved disaster ahead of romance so if the very thought frightened me, would the reality of it not frighten her as well?

Kathleen felt my hesitation... my reluctance to make any further demand of her. But her own impatience triumphed finally, and she turned in my arms, her kiss a plea and a demand. "Love me," she whispered her eyes soft with unshed tears. "Please, Mick?"

I leaned over her, stroking the silk strands back from her face with one fingertip. She was irresistible; her need, miraculous. I drew back a little, and pressed her back among the pillows. Gratefully, gladly I returned to her breasts, circling each fevered nipple again and again before coming to suckle there hungrily, one after the other, at last. She sighed and held my head to her bosom... but I would not be stayed. My attention, and my hungry mouth, wandered downward; she gasped as my tongue invaded her navel and saw me glance up, hazel eyes glittering with triumph. I would remember tonight.

I lifted her knees and she opened like a flower, her eyes glistening. I marveled at her, at this most intimate offering, and reached out to stroke those soft and secret petals. She arched, whimpering so that I thought for an instant I had hurt her... but no. Through the scent she emanated I perceived only pleasure; and her whole posture pleaded with me to continue. Delighting in the feel of her soft pubic curls, I spread her womanly lips gently with my thumbs and - careful, so careful began caressing her there. Almost able to forget my own need, though it stood like forged iron now along my thigh, in the fascination of watching her growing response; watching her breathing change and her skin become rosy and beaded with excitement.

The allure of her, the picture and the scent of her, was crushing, and she opened her eyes in time to see me bending to her. She felt my cool flesh rushing her inner thighs, and the heat of my searching mouth.

"Mick!" She writhed against the coverlet; and still looking down, unable to tear her eyes away, she saw the muscles in my shoulders tense as I took her hips in my eager hands. With deliberate kisses I explored the velvety skin of her thighs, closest to her. I kissed the tendons stretching taut on either side... and tasted the exquisite hollows beneath. I seemed to be tantalizing her; nearly touching the waiting core of her, only to ease away again. When finally my mouth assailed her there, she rolled her head against the pillow and nearly wept my name with relief. I seemed not to hear. I held fast, and loved her with my lips and tongue.

I could "feel" her as she felt herself soaring... powerless to resist the tide rising inside her, carried perilously on the crest of something she could no more control than she could escape.

"Mick!" she cried, her hips rolling helplessly in my ardent grasp.

Her climax almost took me too. Incredulous, I felt the powerful eclipse of her senses; and knew in every part of me the heat of a psychic explosion that threatened to sweep me along to bite her and whisk us away in its wake -

Yet I refused to be overwhelmed and did not take her then, in this extremity of our shared need, as every instinct clamored that I must bite. Instead I moved to her side to take her in a hard embrace, for she was trembling wildly everywhere. I held her tightly, stroking all the comely flesh I could reach as her shuddering breaths began to ease.

My expression, when Melody looked up, was so concerned - almost contrite - that it evoked her weak and breathless laughter. "I didn't know you'd enjoy it that much," I began, "I didn't mean to bring you up so quickly"

"My love," she smiled, nuzzling my neck, "where would I be if you did?" No longer in this loft, she was certain; perhaps scattered across the Los Angeles sky in shooting stars... Of course I hadn't known what to expect of her. I was only beginning to comprehend the force between us and this facet of our love; and she sensed my amazement at my power to affect her so. Kathleen herself felt as though she'd waited a lifetime for my love, I saw it in her eyes and I felt dangerously conflicted over that. Could I give her any commitment? I could give her my heart and my body but I was short one soul to give.

She could feel me against her, enormous with desire, and she eased her hips away from mine a little to slip her hand between. She smiled at the way my near silvered eyes widened as she touched me there, taking the pulsing column in her gentle hand. She began an unhurried stroking, from its broad tumescent head to the tangle of rich deep brown at my body. She reached between my thighs to caress the pendant softness there as well; and watching me triumphantly, she saw the cords stand out in my neck and heard my unnecessary breathing sharpen.

"Enough," I rasped, with a raw chuckle of surrender, and seized her hand to bring it to my lips. My tongue danced over the well healed scar over the top of her delicate hand. It had bled like a son of a bitch the night she was assaulted for no other reason that her Vampire was in a foul mood.

"You are so beautiful, Mick," she whispered, and saw that it was a thing I would always hear with curiosity. I pulled her close again; she twined her legs with mine, gripping one strong thigh between her soft white ones... So we cradled each other, tenderness surmounting everything finally as we paused, gathering strength.

Her hands were clasped behind my neck and I turned to kiss the inside of her forearm; tasted salt... and tasted her again. I felt her pelvis rock gently, persistently, against the pressure of my hard thigh between hers. Felt the moistening heat of her there, on my skin. I felt everything. Her eyes locked with mine. She brought her hands forward to touch my face, to stroke the tangled hair away from my cheek and brow. "Please," she whispered again.

I moved over her gently then, as though very conscious of my weight and size; and she spread herself contentedly beneath me, loving the feel of my weight pressing her back among the bedcovers, loving the sight of me over her. My eyes never left hers as, carefully, I slipped my arms under hers, beneath her shoulders, sliding my hands up behind her neck and into the silken dampness of her hair. Held so, gazing up into the face of her cherished vampire, Kathleen felt completely encompassed. I was so much larger than she, so long-bodied, that as I kissed her she could just feel the head of my erection nudging heatedly at her moist flesh. She tried to wriggle downward with impatience, surprising even herself but I was holding away from her.

So delicate, I thought urgently, looking down into her flushed face, feeling almost that she must be crushed beneath me, so fragile... "Mick," she pleaded.

"Kate," he answered. "My Kate."

So we had "done it" and it was worth every evening that she had spent reading to me, every shy look she had shot me across the room at Josef's "Freshie" soirées. She hadn't been fond of her Vampire's eating style, and after being stitched up when the Frenchman backhanded her across the coffee table I did wonder at her wanting to mix with us nightwalkers. Yet, when I asked Josef if I could find a tutor to get back within the flow of education, Kathleen's name came first.

Now, I guess the dreadfully cautious dance of human and vampire had begun. Kathleen's company had been a respite from University classes in Criminal Justice, her gentle voice reading me novels while I "wound down" watching the flames dance in the fireplace.

As morning bleached the blue-black out of the sky I gently shook her awake, "I have to get some freezer time, you're welcome to stay" I kissed her ear lightly and she shivered at my cool breath. I was drawing all her warmth into my undead body, I could begin to feel the exhaustion I had earned being between her thighs.

"I have to get to work" she sighed, eyeing the clock on the wall. I let her slide out of my arms and our feet hit the smooth cool floor. I watched her dress, in sort of a reverse strip tease that brought my blood to show my interest. Calming the burgeoning erection with a reluctant hand I too slid into pajama pants and walked her back down to the door, a gentle hand at the slope of her back.

"I should call you a cab, or better yet, take my car. I'll be by tonight to pick it up" I toyed with the morning-wild tendrils of her rumpled hair as I fished blindly for my car keys on the table, I couldn't take my eyes off her cornflower blue eyes, her porcelain skin.

"OK, it's a deal. Tonight you can read to me" Kate smirked at the vision of our being together again and deep inside I was overwhelmed. She was gone in a minute, yet the track of her cologne imbued my heart with such a fearful regard I boggled at how we'd go on like this.

What if the Frenchman wanted revenge?

What if I went too far and drained her?

What if she wanted more than I could give her?

Then, she saw me kill.

I knew by the terror in her eyes it was too much like the Frenchman's rage. Kate could meld to my embrace as long as she saw me as the gentle knight in shining armor who pressed a wet cloth to a gushing wound. I had been well fed at that point and knew Josef's hulking bouncers would take him out. Yet tonight, when the Frenchman caught us taking a late night stroll in Pershing Square he followed us, seeking to collect his retaliation for being expulsed from the Tribe in Los Angeles Society. Too rapidly he grabbed at her and reflex took over. I caught him by the throat and spun him until his head separated from his shoulders. Of course that bloody tableau was only after we sparred and each got a few bloody bites into each other. Kate cowered, too fearful to run like hell. She watched the two of us fight for her.

The noble part?

There wasn't any. Frenchie would have put her over his knee and drained her dry for grins and giggles; I was simply protecting my lover, defending my territory. It wasn't nobility that brought me to her aide; it was my defending my possession, my lover. And she saw it in my eyes.

I stood there, paralyzed with my guilt, watching her crouching against the alley wall. Her shock at my overwrought violence exposed her for what she was…..a gentle young woman drawn too closely into a lifestyle she did not deserve, a lifestyle that bore no real "life" at all.

It exposed me as the violent being that I was driven to be, there was no control when danger lurked….I was a full tilt blood rending monster who needed to be with my own undead kind. She stopped returning my calls and when I swung by her tiny Santa Monica apartment it was cleaned out, only the scent of her "Love's Baby Fresh" cologne hung in the air.

I rode back to the loft via the Beach road, twisting up and down the radio dial listening to heartbroken lovers cast aside, hoping to be reunited by dedicating a plaintive song. If only it was that easy to walk back into Kate's heart with a Top 40 hit.

I was alone again, unnaturally.

Months later, I picked up the LA Times; Sunday's Bridal listings had lovely black and white 3" x 5" portraits. Staring back at me were the limpid eyes of one Kathleen Tulley. Arrayed in the diaphanous bridal finery she was a pearl of great value lost to me, exchanging vows with one Gene Embry Turner, November 29, 1980.

The day I returned to my vampire life and set sail to enjoy all things undead.

The "living" were food.

The "living" were clients, paychecks to buy more food, fun and fuckery.

I was 100% undead and readjusting again.

_**Someone found a letter you wrote me, on the radio and they told the world just how you felt**_

_**it must have fallen out of a hole in your old brown overcoat they never said your name but I knew just who they meant.**_

_**Oh, I was so surprised and shocked, and I wondered too if by chance you heard it for yourself**_

_**I never told a soul just how I've been feeling about you but they said it really loud they said it on the air**_

_**on the radio whoa oh oh, on the radio whoa oh oh, on the radio whoa oh oh, on the radio whoa oh oh now, now**_

_**Don't it kinda strike you sad when you hear our song, things are not the same since we broke up last June**_

_**the only thing that I wanna hear is that you love me still and that you think you'll be comin' home real soon**_

_**whoa oh yeah yeah**_

_**and it made me feel proud when I heard you say you couldn't find the words to say it yourself**_

_**and now in my heart I know I can say what I really feel 'cause they said it really loud**_

_**they said it on the air on the radio whoa oh oh**_

_**on the radio whoa oh oh, on the radio whoa oh oh, on the radio**_

_**If you think that love isn't found on the radio well tune right in you may find the love you lost**_

_**'cause now I'm sitting here with the man I sent away long ago it sounded really loud they said it really loud**_

_**on the radio whoa oh oh, on the radio whoa oh oh, on the radio whoa oh oh, on the radio whoa oh oh**_

_**on the radio whoa oh oh, on the radio, radio, radio (fade)**_


	5. Chapter 5

The old man fidgeted. The desire to drink chafed at him, how could you quench your thirst without the sense of taste? He laid back his head full of unruly white hair and sent out a silent guffaw. He had lost so many of his senses and he only missed one, his sense of "her".

**February, 1985**

I took the bait, after an enigmatic phone message I grabbed the car keys and headed to Josef's. He was flipping thru the images on the security monitor, shaking his head at the Freshies doing some sort of cheerleading.

"I'm blaming MTV for this" Josef tossed his head toward the pool image.

6 Freshies in bowling pin formation clapped and chanted, "Hey, Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind, Hey Mickey". From shrill to melodious their voices blended to bark one strong message. "Oh Mickey, what a pity you don't understand. . . ."

"And I had to come over here to see it?" I laughed at the irony; Josef's stable of Freshies chanting my name. "You can always disconnect MTV"

"And have a mutiny?" Josef threw up his hands as he bounded from the chair and gave me a filial hug, "I guess I just have to imagine they're chanting hey, Josef"

"Doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?" I pushed with that crooked smirk on my face. It wasn't often I had an upper hand on JK.

"It wasn't the only reason I asked you over, you know I hate like hell having to tell you this" Josef returned to his chair and steepled his fingers as he reared back. I could only surmise my investments had tanked or perhaps he was raising the door charge on his Freshie Parties.

"Yet I feel you won't refrain" I settled down in the chair before him and stretched out my legs, rested my elbows on the chair arms and prepared myself for something horrid.

"My legal department keeps tabs on things we need to be aware of and this is something you need to be aware of" Josef shoved a form letter with bulleted points to where I directed my attention.

Kathleen Tully Turner had been granted a divorce after her Prince Charming deserted her and their one female child.

"And how does this affect me?" I hadn't seen Kate since I had taken "Frenchy" out. My last memory was seeing her wedding announcement five years ago.

"She's beyond the terms of her severance agreement if she tries to reach you, too old and with a daughter, well that's verboten. . . . . ." Josef wanted to belabor the points of severance. It was all so unnecessary.

I caught his eye and raised a flat hand, "I have had no contact, and I'm dining from your stable – why would I encourage tired blood back into the business?"

"I want no flashback" Josef fed the page into the shredder and the silent afterward was my cue to change the subject.

"Nice. . . . . .Now, what about my little supper party Sunday evening?" Josef clicked at the calendar on his computer screen, "You want a peppy little A+ and perhaps a full bodied 0+?" Josef didn't make eye contact with me while he typed away notes.

"Your house, your menu" I acquiesced, sure I'd be well taken care of, then began to gather myself to get out, I needed a ride along the PCH, needed fresh air. Then he dangled the bait.

"Arlene, would you send in Jana?" Josef purred into the intercom and within the seconds the doors opened, a lovely golden brown haired Freshie presented herself.

"Jana- could you oblige Mr. St John?" Josef stood close; close enough to scent the allure and her accompanying female pheromones.

There I was, presented with a "first taste" of a B-. The slender arm presented, I accepted the honor and scented first her health….no breast implants, no plastic surgery. Well-fed and exercised at the height of her fruitfulness, Josef just didn't dilly dally with his nourishment. I dropped my head after scenting her readiness and her tight, tanned skin broke under the even pressure of my fangs. Her succulence rolled over my teeth, my gums and floated down my throat. Just a taste of this sanguine treat primed me for the upcoming party…..how could I resist showing back up for more of this? I let the second mouthful savor within my cheek, and then I ran my tongue over her, effectively sealing her tiny wounds. "She is divine" I proclaimed sub tonally.

Then a phone call pierced the sanctity of the moment and we were pulled from our reverie. Josef's eyes cut toward the phone and the caller ID caused him to suggest I dine and dash, "That's right, anyway, I see you're itchy" Josef tightened his tie, signaling he was getting back to work, "See you Saturday".

And with that I was politely dismissed. I made a bee line for the car and dropped the top, popping in some Miles Davis I slid out of my duster and got behind the wheel. The night was mine.

**4 months later**

I had met Bonita DeCarlo thru the "tribe", in a secret society, I knew even less about her.

She seemed shrouded in secrecy, none of the men uttered a word about her and in company of our undead brethren she seemed singular. I actually wondered if she exercised the vampire option of pan-sexuality, as she seemed to hang tight with the women. When we first struck up a chat it was about Miles Davis, she had begun a little improvisational solo dance in the middle of the party. I clapped at the end, while the rest of the party returned to their tete a tetes.

"You enjoy Miles?" I toasted the question with a raise of my A+. She smiled and if she could have she would have blushed.

"I get carried away, the music . . . . . moves me" Although it moved her she stayed arm's length away from me. Her voice, like dark velvet, stilled and steadied me, "Bonita DeCarlo and you have to be Mick St John"

What was there a billboard above my head? I nodded, "How did you know?"

"I saw the guest list, I'm a regular and you aren't. What kind of P.I. are you – no deductive reasoning?" So there she was a sharp tongue with a sophisticated presence, dusky good looks, honed into a 20th century beauty, plump in the right places, downright bountiful if you catch my drift.

Our "dance" began later that night, back at my place. Even with eternity in your back pocket some things do not wait.

All my party banter readied her, on the ride home she told me how comfortable I was, how she felt she could slip her skin and be just "Bonnie".

Once inside the loft I flipped the fireplace on for light, I had to see every pallid inch of her. Then as we fell into bed I slipped one hand down between us, the hair of my wrist tickling her tummy, and she could feel a great and fervid pressure at her most secret place. Willing her over-excited muscles to relax, she opened herself still more widely.

I kissed her then, taking her mouth once more by surprise; and with a sudden, sinuous movement of her hips, I fell into her just a little. She tried not to gasp as I held her there, transfixed. Her entire being was focused - there - in a thunderclap of sensation. I felt her silken channel clench; and it was a feeling I had missed so viscerally for years. I held just there, barely within her, savoring the instant of this new connection... Watching her, and waiting.

Bonita opened her eyes, and lost herself anew in my gaze. She managed a tremulous smile and drew me back down to be kissed... and reassured, I pressed forward. Her eyes widened, tears gathering in the corners at a slight pain - almost a tearing - within. She inhaled sharply in spite of herself. I raised my head, alarmed. "Bonnie?"

She took my face in her cool porcelain hands again. "It's all right."

"I….smell….blood, I feel it!" And I would have withdrawn and rolled away from her but -

"No!" she cried, clinging to me. "Don't leave me!"

"But there was - "

"I thought there might be," she confessed softly. "But I'm all right, I promise. No matter how many times it happens, it shocks me a little and... It's over now." And it was, as she lay filling her eyes with the sight of me so close above and silvered by candlelight, "Come back," she whispered.

"You're sure?"

And heart, body and soul, Bonita reached for me, rocking gently into the wellspring of her desire; needing no words but only this, as she drew me down, to convince; knowing I could feel, as she did, her body's growing eagerness to accept all I could offer...

"Oh," she breathed. "Now, Mick."

So tenderly I did impale her then, so deftly thrust and with such gentleness, that what might have been pain was turned instead to pleasure, and the exquisite sense of being filled with him.

In that moment nothing else existed for us. Shivering feverishly, she heard a sobbing moan, her own, mingle with the almost anguished sound I made deep in my throat as I felt fully and finally sheathed within her. I moved to her deeply, instinctively; held myself throbbing at her very center, this in itself a declaration, an act of possession. I felt the caress of her calves as they rose along the backs of my thighs.

She drew me like a river. She loved the weight of me over her, and the breadth of my hips pressing her thighs wider even as she strained to clasp me more tightly. We seemed everywhere joined, inside and out; every part of me was excruciatingly aware of her touch, her taste, the texture of my flesh against hers. Her hips rolled seductively against mine, summoning a rhythm beyond thought, beyond my power to resist. I felt her age, felt her emotion.

Now we rocked each other, moved in unison with a delicious languor - surely even our scant heartbeats, synchronized. My loins seemed welded to hers and she imagined the hair mingling there, dark and bright. She rolled her head against the pillow; I felt her lips in my hair, on my brow and eyelids, and opened my eyes to find each other eye to eye.

Hadn't been anything like this in my life….never had I ever taken a virgin, even in high school I hadn't plumbed new territory like this. Bonita, a 369 year old vamp, turned before her wedding by a brilliantly evil landowner in Italy. As she prepared to meet her groom, Salvatore Amarillo's tribe of undead ambushed her wagon and stole more from Bonita than her groom.

The legend of Virgin's blood cost her mortality. Her undead nature cost her family everything.

Bonnie was one of those quiet, unvampire vampires. Never showy, she made her living weaving beads into lustrous jewelry for a small shop in a tony section on the water. When I saw her on the pier at night at one of Josef's parties I thought, "This couldn't be happening" after long nights spent alone I had met someone who drew quiet moments of the cacophony of life.

She laid low, avoided the vamp clubs and just knew Josef on the periphery of his social vista. I was feeling the pull to spend more time with her, yet this reoccurring event, deflowering her with each intercourse threatened to tear my heart apart. I was struck by her stoic pain, her anticipation of the burn of pain and the absolving culmination that would make each agony worth it. It didn't take long for the two of to be the enigmatic couple within a school of showy over the top vampire personalities.

Nothing in my life, no hope or dream of love, could have prepared me for it - for this feeling of being enveloped, engulfed by her. It was a sensation I'd known only in my heart, and in the secret reaches of my soul. This wasn't like Lilah, it was nowhere near Coraline.

Now the bond of being taken, raped into our nature sang between us and looking down into her green eyes, I knew she felt it too. Her small eager hands were everywhere, enticing, stroking the back of my neck, tugging at my shoulders to pull me impossibly closer.

There was a fire in our blood.

She felt a heightening of our shared rhythm, felt it becoming subtly mine and was drawn in inexorably. Her restrained rolling of my hips against hers began to sharpen. Bonnie reached behind me, kneading my buttocks, feeling the muscled flesh tighten, again and again, with the movement of my body.

The first time I withdrew from her a little, her whimper of protest brought a rain of kisses down over her fevered cheeks. She gasped as I filled her again, as deeply as before, and wrapped her arms around me as though hoping to hold me there. But rising up a little, I withdrew from her again almost completely. I held just inside her tender portal, waiting to feel her body calling me... And then very slowly, watching her face, I thrust back into her molten softness.

Bonnie ran her hands up the corded muscles of my arms and over my shoulders, feeling cool alabaster hard skin under her palms, flattening her hands high against my chest. Her fingers clenched, opened and clenched again as my strokes deepened.

We rode the increasing power and certainty, there was an instant of disbelief as she realized that contrary to all my fears, I knew what to do; that it had always known; and that with this woman, no dark violence lay in wait for us here.

Bonnie's total trust and vulnerability touched in me tenderness not common in the Tribe; I had not known it existed. She whimpered and I kissed the sound away, lips teasing hers so that she caught at my hair to pull me down again.

I felt as though, inside her, I was growing impossibly longer and more rigid, heated flesh full to bursting. Her legs lifted suddenly higher along my back, the impulse taking her by surprise even as it angled her hips to draw me deeper.

I felt it first. It began as a point of white light, unimaginably bright and hot and centered somewhere within us, or the two if us, within it. It grew until, even with my eyes closed, it seemed to light us the glow of a thousand crystal fireplaces. Bonnie threw back her head, and I felt her quicken beneath me.

Conclusion summoned us, and I resisted it desperately. I wanted this never to end... but Bonnie was calling "Mick, Mick, Mmmmiiiiiicccckkkk", moving against me with an almost frantic urgency. With a last vestige of control I slipped my arms under her again, embracing her wholly, preparing to bite in the damp curve of her throat and went with her at last into the light.

My bite, then a soft, bellowing cry was muffled against her neck. She cried out as I thundered into her, aware of nothing beyond that bursting fulfillment... losing all sense of our own singularity in our encompassing oneness as I felt her bite.

When we came back again, it was to the awareness of our bodies still cradling each other. She opened her eyes and saw my face only inches above hers, eyes brimming. She slipped her arms up around my neck, and brought me back to be kissed. When I would have spoken she hushed, tasting her blood on my lips.

Still large within her, I could feel small aftershocks as her inner muscles contracted rhythmically along my length. Yet I could also feel her slender legs trembling where they encircled me. I moved to withdraw.

"No," she pleaded, clutching snugly with every part of her.

I smoothed damp strands of hair back from her face. "Bonnie, you're tired, we need ice. I don't want to either"

"I don't want it ever to end... Do you?"

Reaching back and, with gentle firmness, I lowered one of her legs flat to the bed. Then, drawing her with me we rolled carefully onto my side so that her other leg covered my hip. Still deeply joined to her, I ran my hand up the back of her thigh to capture the warm satin swell of her bottom. "Better?"

"Better," she sighed, snuggling closer to press a kiss into the hollow at the base of my throat. There she could feel the vestiges a post coital pulse beating slowly against her lips. To my surprise then she urged me further onto my back among the pillows, so that she could lay her tousled head on my shoulder.

"Am I heavy?" she whispered.

"No, rest, now." my free hand followed her slender back upward, to the nape of her neck; and still cupping her behind with the other, I settled her more securely. Her slight weight seemed to warm us everywhere. Her arm lay lightly across my chest, her fingers curled gently on my far shoulder, protectively. I could feel her suffused with a glow of utter contentment as she drifted toward sleep. I knew I wasn't going to sleep. Not yet, wasn't it possible it had all been a dream?

Meanwhile, I would hold her while she zoned out. It was much later - hours, perhaps - that I was shaken by the sound. So faintly did it come, or from so far away, that had we not been otherwise involved I might never have heard it at all.

Bonnie felt my start with surprise, and drowsily lifted her head. "Mick?"

"Shhh... listen." I was looking toward the security monitor.

"What is it?"

"I thought I heard..."

"What?"

"A knock." I turned widening eyes back to her. "For a moment, I thought I heard a knock." The reverb of the knock echoed a scent. Something long lost years ago.

"I need to get this" I threw on my trousers, commando and buttoned on my shirt as I made my way to the office door. A silhouette of a woman stood, I could see the taut emotions in her body language as she beat for my response.

I hesitated, knowing who it was. Kate Tulley Turner. I could not turn my back on her. Deserted, divorced, she had to be desperate to come to me in the early hours of a morning.

I drew open the door with mixed reluctance and curiosity.

"Please, help me, someone took my daughter" She fell into my arms as easily as our old lover's embrace. "Someone took Beth, Mick…..please help me, the Police have nothing"

I extricated myself from her grasp and led her to the chair in front of my desk. I pulled a few tissues from the ever present Kleenex box and watched her "recover" a bit of her composure. The story spilled out of her between hiccups and sips of water.

I nodded, piecing together the usual kidnapping without the customary ransom note. Fishy at best I knew Kate would be branded as a woman seeking attention, as someone who faced the end of her marriage thinking the child caused the fissure. Lose the child, regain the marriage. Only I could read her veracity.

"Let's take a ride back to your home, let me read Beth's room, OK?" I was by her side with a strong arm and stronger constitution. If there be monsters I'd sniff them out.

The home sat dark and quiet at the end of a sleepy cul de sac. The carport wore the stains of a leaky car, the house announced its loneliness the minute I drew open the door. Initially the absence of testosterone was covered by the wretched decay of vampire. Then I walked through the great room and saw glaring deletions of personal effects, as if Kate had summarily boxed her ex's things up and not resolved what would take their place. After 4 months this seemed painful, even to me.

"We went to bed after a story, like every night" Kate pushed the door open and I saw Beth's refuge. A tablecloth over two chairs back to back shown she had been hiding, not in the bed, but in her "fortress" where her teddy lay mute to the tragic event.

"Anyone new in your lives, babysitter or a new job for you?" I scanned the room, scenting for that particular vamp essence that seemed familiar.

"Her day care was new, I went back to work about a year ago and Kid's Corner closed about 3 months ago. I was stuck using a referral from the yellow pages. Beth was happy, what do kids know?" Kate crossed her arms and ran a furtive hand thru her hair. The tears began again.

"Kids know a lot, any friends of hers we can talk to after sunrise?" I didn't want to hold her, didn't want to go there.

"Uhuh" she shook within my arms and I had to set her away from me, out of the ring of temptation. Then walking the house it hit. Coraline.

"I think I know where she is. Stay here, do NOT answer the door, do not answer the phone. Do you understand?" I shook her shoulders to get her attention.

"Yeah, Mick" she blinked back fat tears and nodded.

The old hotel stood silent to humans. To vamps it cried "fraught female", actually there were two of them, one mortal one immortal.

The Albemarle Motel has seen better days. In 1952 it was the novelty to drive up to your room, park and enter privately. No lobbies, no doormen eyeing you. It had to work just fine for the St John Newlyweds, the deskman only saw me and my cash in my blue wedding suit. No one got a whiff of the undead Bride in her virginal gown and veil.

Now the sagebrush and weeds had woven lacy patterns over the pavement, the draperies that had given her privacy to steal my life hung in shreds. The sound of the roof shingles flapping in the night breeze caught my ear then I concentrated on the satanic glow from one room in particular.

"Coraline", I knocked at the door of the room where she traded my love for my life. I heard Beth's muffled sobs and Coraline's idea of "mothering". The stench of kerosene permeated the air, that could be my ammunition or it could be my undoing.

Flames + vampire = certain demise.

I saw Beth posed at the little table, sobbing and scribbling until I entered the room. Seeing me she sought Coraline, for what reason I cannot fathom. In a fit of maternal possessiveness she caught tiny Beth's face within her hands, what a despairing tableau.

Words were exchanged between us; none of them meant anything to me. I heard the tone of her saccharine voice, and fought to process her maniacal ideas to turn a child and tempt me back to "family life" it all wretched my gut. I was already divorced but I needed more "finality".

No wonder the child cowered, what happened next will haunt that child forever. Coraline began her gossamer acrobatics while we duked it out the old fashioned way, fangs and claws full out, we scrapped. I posed my masculine strength against her age and power. Poor Beth, she sucked her fingers while I heard her heartbeat strike an urgent staccato.

Coraline would burst with preternatural energy and pin me against the wall, I'd leverage my weight and parry. Clothing and skin ripped, clothing was rent to shreds while undead flesh healed. With each attack the healing slowed as the blood flew. Arterial spray decorated the walls. Then in a fluke I caught her flat on her back and with the only weapon within reach I staked her.

Coraline's disbelieving eyes glared daggers at me as I drove the stake into the floor through her dark heart. Mentally paralyzed I robotically stood then I shook my head and stepped back in disbelief. Had I staked my sire, my ex-wife? Worse than that, I knew what I had to do. I gathered this cowering child into my arms and with the kerosene lamp I initiated an unholy baptism, casting the liquid fuel over the dry wood, the linens and lastly, Coraline.

Like a spider monkey, Beth clutched at me, tiny needled fingertips grasped into me. "Beth, Beth, I have to drive" that drew no response.

"Beth, baby,…." I had no experience with children, and she was to be my daughter?

"I'm not your baby, I'm not her baby, I'm big" distance had instilled just enough impudence now for her curt retort.

"Then you have to be big enough to ride in your own seatbelt" I nodded toward the passenger seat.

"Is this a vertible?" Beth eyed the bottle green Benz, ragtop up; her expression softened with tears, now the threat was over it was time to fall apart.

"It is a convertible" I stood, the heat of the flames licking at my back, feeling the sensation of the punishing heat, waiting for the eminent explosions.

"Can we feel the wind?" Her cornflower blue eyes cleared with her question, one hand tightly woven into my hair, one index finger poking at my lip where a fang had receded.

"If you sit in your seat with the seatbelt" I hadn't seen this child deal with anger or denial but she brought me up to speed with bargaining. I wondered how she'd deal with depression and acceptance. She nodded and I snapped her in, as I rounded the Benz I saw the flames licking the ceiling, shapes dancing in the fire's destruction. I even saw darkness within the flames' yellows and reds…..I felt the specter of my wife's eyes on me and it spurred me to drop the top and get the hell out of there before the sirens wailed.

Silently, Beth sat tall, arms up with chubby fingers grasping for air, corn silk bangs danced from her ivory complexion. She held up her face to the night air as her long eyelashes fluttered against the wind. No words exchanged between us, the rumble of the car, her calming heartbeat and the night sounds ushered us the many miles to the Turner's driveway.

I saw Kate hovering in the window, and at the sight of my headlights bouncing up the driveway she bounded down the stone walk, wailing her daughter's name. Youthfully agile, Beth extricated herself from the old seat belt and climbed over the door into Kate's arms. I felt their joy, scented their relief and sought to give them their privacy. Once I marched them up to the front door I flew thru the small home relocking windows, checking doors and confirming their safety. I wanted to disappear, yet that would be too easy it seemed.

"He's your guardian angel" I heard Kate whisper into Beth's ear as she smoothed the tow head's hair. "Your Mommy loves you so much". I hung back, working my way to the front door, seeking anonymity. "Mick, don't go, we want to thank you". Kate stood up, carrying Beth, pressing toward me.

In some abnormal part of my world, I missed Kate, hated she had seen my nature, despised that it had scared her from me.

Could I change? (Probably not)

Was it too late for me? (Yeah about 33 years)

I couldn't be part of their lives….._unless…_….

_**I don't know where I'm going**_

_**But, I sure know where I've been**_

_**Hanging on the promises**_

_**In songs of yesterday**_

_**An' I've made up my mind,**_

_**I ain't wasting no more time**_

_**But, here I go again**_

_**Here I go again**_

_**Tho' I keep searching for an answer,**_

_**I never seem to find what I'm looking for**_

_**Oh Lord, I pray**_

_**You give me strength to carry on,**_

_**'Cos I know what it means**_

_**To walk along the lonely street of dreams**_

_**An' here I go again on my own**_

_**Goin' down the only road I've ever known,**_

_**Like a hobo I was born to walk alone**_

_**An' I've made up my mind**_

_**I ain't wasting no more time**_

_**I'm just another heart in need of rescue,**_

_**Waiting on love's sweet charity**_

_**An' I'm gonna hold on**_

_**For the rest of my days,**_

_**'Cos I know what it means**_

_**To walk along the lonely street of dreams**_

_**An' here I go again on my own**_

_**Goin' down the only road I've ever known,**_

_**Like a hobo I was born to walk alone**_

_**An' I've made up my mind**_

_**I ain't wasting no more time**_

_**But, here I go again,**_

_**Here I go again,**_

_**Here I go again,**_

_**Here I go...**_

_**An' I've made up my mind,**_

_**I ain't wasting no more time**_

_**An' here I go again on my own**_

_**Goin' down the only road I've ever known,**_

_**Like a hobo I was born to walk alone**_

_**'Cos I know what it means**_

_**To walk along the lonely street of dreams**_

_**An' here I go again on my own**_

_**Goin' down the only road I've ever known,**_

_**Like a hobo I was born to walk alone**_

_**An' I've made up my mind**_

_**I ain't wasting no more time...**_

_**But, here I go again,**_

_**Here I go again,**_

_**Here I go again,**_

_**Here I go,**_

_**Here I go again...**_


	6. Chapter 6

The old man remembered the day, Flag Day was always special, his Mom would put out the flag, and neighbors would drop in and talk about "the Big One". He was thinking about the fireworks after the fried chicken picnic and he was glad to be back on US soil. He'd spend time with his girl and perhaps after the fireworks they'd make some of their own. These were the good days, the days those memories flowed like a crystal creek.

"Ready for me to read to you?" the perky volunteer held up the poetry of Edgar Allen Poe and the old man's eyes lit up. The blond candy striper sat in the chair opposite his wheelchair and began, "A Dream within a Dream."

Kate Turner spoke slowly and softly, with earnest gravity. "Oh, Mick, trust in me. I'm sure. I have not a doubt in the world. I know you are Beth's Guardian Angel, you knew right where she was"

Kate was grateful; would she have been so grateful if I had told her my ex-wife had nabbed Beth?

With a deep breath, Kate continued, "I know your feelings for us, Beth and I, we're human. I understand that." Kate drew back from me, cradling Beth as the tot's eyes winked closed for the last time. Beth had been fighting sleep since I had brought her home. Had Kate forgotten the quick retreat she'd made so many years ago?

I kept getting the kid's fisheye, especially when she thought I was otherwise in conversation with her Mom. Was she waiting for me to phase back into the blood sucking killer that I was?

"Let me put Beth to bed, have you eaten, did you need to?" Kate shielded Beth's ears while she turned for the tiny bedroom. I shuddered to think she'd lay down her child to extend an arm to me.

"I'm good, no, no, nooooo, spend time with Beth….I have to leave" I felt kicked in the stomach, my eyes bulged at the thought and my mouth turned to sand. Kate moved more quickly than a human should have, before I was at the door she was pushing up the sleeve of my formerly favorite wrist.

"No, no, Kate" I caught her wrist and returned the coarse cotton sleeve to her tanned arm. I scented the clothes melded to her by 20 hours of fearsome wear. She had perspired, chilled to shivering and perspired again in the hours while Beth was away. It had percolated to a fine, fine jumble of delectable essences.

Her eyes fell at my refusal and the path began to clear for me. I couldn't feed fresh anymore. Not if I was going to be Beth's Guardian Angel. I couldn't see this child move thru life while I dined on her milieu.

"Kate- I'm good for now, go spend time with Beth. She might wake up and fear being alone, I'll let myself out".

Inside my brain's hindmost cavern I postured to myself, "Believe that it will be all right, that it will be great, because I do. Believe."

I stared down at her, speechless, my eyes welled up with tears of gratitude that Beth had made it out of the hotel physically unscathed. This blond tot would be on a couch before first grade. Did Psychiatrists put kids on couches? Where they little couches?

Of course to even bring me into the case had Kate held a semblance of confidence in me or was it desperation? Where does a divorced Mom go when Police don't have an answer to, "Who took my daughter?"

Kate tried to press five crumpled twenty dollar bills into my shirt pocket, I peeled them back out and felt their age with all the finger oils and the scent reminiscent of sweat. "Buy some window locks".

And I was gone. Having the top town began to erase Beth's scent. I was grateful for that because holding that grateful child in my arms, seeing her smile at me as our faces were within inches of each other, inhaling her exhalations – I was slayed.

Ideas pinballed within my brain with the same fact being paramount, Coraline had chosen Beth for her blood. That AO blood that Coraline had would have driven her to sniff out as selectively rare a child as Beth. Or had Coraline identified this was a former Freshie's child? Had Coraline known Kate was one of mine? Had Coraline known that Kate and I once relished sharing more than blood?

Had I damned this child in some way? I kept plowing down dark alleys within me. Coraline turned me; I had her AO blood flowing within me. I exchanged plenty of bodily fluids with Kate, had this infiltrated into her to alter her child? The field of possibilities rumbled within my tormented heart.

It wasn't my physical weakness, it was a culminating awareness that all I had been was about to swing around diametrically. It was within me to change, this child, Beth was bringing me around. I was about to gather what I Coraline had spilled….my humanity.

Once I was back at my loft Bonnie smiled, with a wicked gleam. "You , OK?" she caught me with those deep brown eyes. I was feeling plates shifting within my psyche, but I wasn't sure which way they were sliding.

"It was a kidnapping….it was my ex, thinking she'd get me back with a family." I could see this was sinking in.

"A child, that's forbidden, did you call the Cleaners?" Bonnie's shock rippled thru her.

"I did, afterwards" head hung, I was looking for absolution.

"Afterwards?" Bonnie recognized the hunger taking over my body, then poured me a tall one.

"After I staked her… and killed her" my words escaped in a low hiss.

"That's forbidden, she was your sire" Now Bonnie drew back, her lithe body arching back over the kitchen counter, lips drawn back in horror. I was now officially a monster to mortals and the undead.

"You know how that happened…..Bonnie….she was my sire because she killed me….she took the only thing I had" I had eaten and still felt empty.

"That happens, I can tell you time doesn't erase this pain" Bonnie's hands clutched at her heart as she inched toward the door.

"If it had been you, you would have done the same thing" I hurled the accusation back to her. "Don't tell me you wouldn't take that Signore's head right off his shoulders if he had aimed to turn another innocent soul"

"To tell the truth I wouldn't know what I would do…..Mick…. I want to feel your passion as well as your tenderness, but I have to have some time….I want to be here for you, I want to understand your need….but I am having so many feelings over your actions tonight."

"I appreciate the honesty" it was all I could muster, the few intelligent words left in my cranium were leaking thru my tear ducts.

"I'm heading home" Bonnie's slide toward the door precluded her giving me a "good-bye" embrace., "For now, when you feel like talking more, call me" with those words she was at the door, hand on the knob.

I zipped to face her, my hands poised at each side of her lovely head my eyes gazed deeply into hers, our minds miles apart, our lips only a breath away. My desperate look held her captive while the shared gaze stretched over many seconds. Neither of us moved, held in a motionless moment of arrested time.

At last I shut my eyes briefly, breaking the magnetism. I looked down at her again, unnecessarily breathed a long sigh and spoke: "Bonnie… God help me, I don't know what to do!"

As I uttered those words she felt my body relax, iron hard muscles softening as I freed the tight control I'd been holding since I cast that lamp's fuel across the tinder box of a room. My arms pressed around her closely, holding her fast against the wall. Her eyes winced closed and I felt her tremble.

"I scare you now?" My mouth had a mind of its own, it was about to press against hers, and while it opened to reveal very vampire canines I snapped my lips closed and felt the phasing halt.

"I don't know" she drew herself up to her full 5'3'' height, flattening herself best as she could. I understood what I was. I couldn't throw my strength and my angry power into an assault so much like the one that ushered her into this undead nature.

I drew back, and with hands slid into my back pockets I gently kissed her forehead, "This might be good-bye, Bonnie, I'm sorry". She said she understood me; I had a coarse understanding of her issues. I just didn't understand my own self.

That night I bathed, for an eon I stood under freezing water, pummeling myself mentally while the icy needles hit me until I was numb. I stood; my forearms braced against the wall and replayed the images in my disturbed mind. It was a good thing my parents were dead, it was fortuitous that I didn't know a soul from those days in West Adams.

When the stench of kerosene was purged, and my undead flesh shone like funereal marble I shut off the water and drip dried. The apartment air dried me as I walked naked through the loft, shutting off lights, turning on music, surveying all I owned with a jaundiced eye. I hadn't done so well as a human and now I could only redeem myself while I prowled eternity.

I was fighting something inside me betwixt a Mr. Hyde and a bonified Monster.

I lay in the freezer sensing a growing heat within me, my thirst had been quenched by the fresh-drawn blood I had downed before I opened the grey steel door. Yet, my hunger hadn't been satisfied. I was on the verge of an epiphany.

"Morgue" businesslike, the voice answered the phone call on a humanly impossible first ring.

"Guillermo?" I was seeking the Hispanic vampire, the "fluids" specialist who had cleared me on the trial.

He answered with the wariness of those conducting business under the table, "Who's asking?"

"Mick St John, remember me?" I projected a neighborly voice.

"Right, family" I perceived the smile as it drew across his face.

"You in tonight? I need to drop in, professional visit" "G" knew why I was calling, even though I hadn't initially known why.

Clean, dressed I palmed the car keys and cogitated why I was involved in such a quandary.

"You here to negotiate professional services? Call me, "G", his naturally tan yet unnaturally cool hand grabbed at mine. We shook hands while our eyes met.

I nodded, unitiated about it all. I had always "dined" after horrendous hunting with Coraline, she liked it that way. A.C. (After Coraline) I refined my style with Josef's stable. He always let me know he settled the tab out of my investment account. The menu was sublime, although the tab was absurd.

Now I was strolling down the pussified route of bagging my groceries….. Dead blood, morgue blood, is about as far from my food source as Velveeta cheese is for mortals.

We negotiated the type, A+ and the price which I took a blood oath to never reveal. Since the American Red Cross doesn't extend these sorts of services…..I guess this is where I am with my "diet", sipping my sanguinary supper as I suspect how my host slipped the surly bonds of society.

I got home with the six pack cooler full of bagged pints. I scented the pouches and thought about the rations we hauled overseas. They didn't carry the stench of anticoagulants, of course neither do my 21st century MRE's, it's just the Citrate Phosphate Dextrose hung in the air where they were packaged.

I imagine that I'll need to brace Josef for my dietary news. I shredded the "Freshie" file in my Rolodex and sorted out the feminine products I had in the guest bathroom. After the trip to the incinerator the loft seemed just a tad more still. Still as a morgue.

No more "bitey" calls at 1:00 a.m., the doorman will probably think I've gone celibate. The first 48 hours depressed me. I found the flavor flat; I missed the feeling of "her" anticipation, whoever she was. I missed "her" orgasm and how it sweetened my meal, like desert at every repast.

A call to the mansion clued me in, Josef was in Basel for a chocolate covered Freshie Convention, seems there are debates on our health benefits of Freshies ingesting dark chocolate vs. milk chocolate before they feed us. I dodged that food source conversation, this week.

By the 7th night I was ingesting intravenously, it hit harder and quicker. The fall was further and tougher. I curtailed cases as I experienced more sensitive reactions to UV rays. Once the sun set I was grabbing furtive glances over my shoulder second guessing my observations. I dialed down the temp on the freezer and sniffed for excessive decay.

I played my messages, "Mick, Josef's gone to Russia on business, but we're home and we miss you…" Somewhere in the back ground noise was that brain worm of a song "Mickey". I erased the message and sent Nordstrom gift cards over to appease their broken hearts.

Day 30 I had reconciled this was all mental. I was still boxing three times a week, destroying the heavy bag, my vertical leap was in excess of 30 feet and I could still squat the back end of the Benz. With these revelations I fell back into work five nights a week with Friday and Saturday night off for good behavior.

"Where have you been?" Bonnie's voice registered exhilaration at my answering the telephone.

"Business, it's been a rough month" I slid that right past her; she couldn't scent my deceit over the phone.

"I've missed you, Mick….. is business tied up with a pretty bow?" She was textbook hungry.

"Pretty enough for us to get together" I felt a lump in my throat, not the usual below the belt. I hadn't been with anyone since the night I killed Coraline. Did I correlate her murder with sex? Not that I recollected. If we could glide thru the evening with music and some snappy repartee perhaps she could bring me back into the nightlife of the living dead.

"I'm grateful you called when you did, I wasn't sure when you'd get back from your art show" I swung open the door at the sound of the elevator.

Before she was fully in the door her hand came up to cover my mouth. "You have nothing to be grateful for! Gratitude doesn't enter into it! It 's a two way delight." Her face crinkled into a grin with the last sentence, then she pecked a light kiss on my chin.

I returned a small smile. "As I was about to say when I was interrupted, I'm so grateful that you had such trust in me." I puckered my brow a little as she fell into an embrace. She pulled closer, and began to kiss my face. "Perhaps; but it's moot now."

Her kisses grew more insistent, Bonnie leading the sexual onslaught. Her customarily soft voice thickened as she became more involved with what she was doing. She spoke slowly, in a half whisper, between kisses. "This is what matters…I'm here, wanting to make love to you…and I'm not afraid anymore."

Bonnie's hands slid around my neck and her fingers threaded through my hair, holding me in a close embrace, delivering my mouth against hers. "M-m-m-m," she moaned softly in concert with my inarticulate sounds of bliss.

Suddenly she raised her head. "Mick?"

My eyes opened slowly. "hmnn…?"

"I…I'm on the edge, Mick. I'm going to…lose control here" She was panting, and she could feel my reticent erection pressed to her belly.

She smiled up at me, her hand stroking my face, a demi fang trailing at my thumb. "I'm not afraid. Lose control, Mick. Just, let go."

She pulled my head back closer to her mouth. She looked up at me in bewilderment. The perpetual virgin was holding me in her arms as a lover, and she was willing all of it to happen. Now, her libido had kicked in and I was nearly thwarting her premier efforts.

She raised her head that small fraction more until her lips touched mine, reveling in the feel of her wet, wet mouth against mine. She had fed, recently, so recently I could feel her Freshie's heat circulating through her.

Bonnie's tongue reached past my lips to caress my tongue, to slide over my teeth, to delve into what she hoped were the depths of my willing mouth. I began to growl softly in the back of my throat, an unconscious reaction to the bliss of her arms and her lips.

Could I just…let go, let myself be…what I am?

My hand traveled slowly the length of her back, smoothing the fabric over her well fed, warm flesh, longing for a closer touch. Can this be? Can I…let these feelings be…real? At her waist her felt the edge of her blouse and began to pull it gently from the waistband of her trousers. When my hand touched flesh I tightened reflexively and groaned as I moved up the bare skin of her back. The pleasure registered, I had denied myself for too many days.

I can't give this up…not now, not when she's so close, I lifted my head, to look down at her face. "Bonnie…I'm…I'm slip sliding into something that I don't understand…I don't know what is going to happen."

"Let it go…let it all go, Mick…" Her eyes were closed, her fangs shining with the moisture of my kiss. She smiled a little, and her hands traveled the length of my back, sliding across me, leaving a track of fiery heat wherever she touched me. "It will be all right. Just…let it go."

"Ah, God, this is… a dream!" My mouth came down on the soft skin of the side of her neck just under her ear. My tongue came out then, passing over her skin, drinking in the taste of her, the wonderful, arousing scent of her wafting up for my enjoyment, driving my desire to a new peak. "Bonnie, I want you...too"

I scooped her up and carried her to bed, kissing her eyes and her ears. That low growl strengthened as I straightened and looked down at her, lying soft and relaxed, waiting for my touch. I stood there, looking down at her on the bed, waiting for me and the last of whatever control I had snapped.

Of the four f's, the fortuitous use of carnal knowledge seemed to be dominant. You fight and afterwards you have to fuck, you flee and to celebrate you fuck. You feed, you crave to fuck. And most times fucking just brings on more fucking. I began to strip off clothes, unaware that I was growling all the while.

Without a trace of hesitation my clothes were pulled off, shirt swept over head, then pants dropped to the floor. Bonnie hummed and old song while I sat on the bed, impatiently untying and pulling off first one boot, then the other, with a groan of irritation even at vamp speed.

Here we were, roles reversed. She was the aggressor, the sexually confident one, the hungry one ready to devour me with hands and mouth and all her womanity. I was the bruised one, broken in hidden places with no apparent cure on the horizon.

No cure for vampirism, no cure for killing your sire, no cure for wanting to safeguard a little one's life.

"He's had a tremendously long life, can you imagine what he sees, what he's feeling?" The Doctor viewed the chart on the monitor, scrolling thru pages of attending's notes. His protégé, a vivacious Resident pushed the specialist to learn more.

"His body is remarkably fit for such a patient" She flipped from image to image as the photos tracked the man from his 30's to his 80's.

"He's suffered two strokes and a brain hemorrhage. For six years, it was believed he was in a vegetative state. In 1972, a family member noticed he tried to smile after he heard a joke. Upon further examination I discerned cognizance in his eye movements."

The Resident rubbed at tired eyes then minimized the screen, closing the file. "So, Doctor, what now?"

_**Alright, Yeah, Well now I must admit, I can't explain any of these thoughts racing through my brain**_

_**It's true, Baby I'm howlin for you**_

_**Alright, there's something wrong with this plot**_

_**The actors here have not got a clue, Baby Im howlin for you**_

_**Da da da da**_

_**Mocking Bird, Can't you see?**_

_**Little girls gotta hold on me, like glue - Baby Im howlin for you**_

_**Yeah, throw the ball to the stick, swing and miss and catcher's mitt**_

_**Strike Two, Baby I'm howlin for you**_

_**Yeah, Yeah, Da da da da**_

_**(Black Keys, Howlin' for you, available at YouTube)  
><strong>_


	7. Chapter 7

"Doctor, we've had some spikes in his lab values" The Resident had grown attached to this patient; he was different from the others in the Rehab ward. "He's in no capacity to respond to us and these indications aren't favorable."

The mentoring physician sat up and put down his cup of cold coffee "The overarching principle in capacity determination is the assessment of the patient's ability to understand the consequences of a decision. We can't be sure he's truly responding to us". The physician made a face at the taste of the swill and stood, smoothing his trousers under his white coat. "When was the last time you had a hot meal?" The question was paternal, caring, and then he arched a brow and added, "I can't do one more thing without being fed".

The Physician's abrupt frankness shocked the blonde Resident. She had worked with him for 6 months and could not remember seeing him ever eat! "He should be in this same condition in 1 or 2 hours, I guess you're the boss" and she minimized the file's screen and followed him down the hall and out of the rehab hospital. Tonight food and companionship would trump an unsolvable medical problem.

**1988**

December, 1942 I came back from Europe on the Queen Mary. My future had to be replotted; there was no gut stirring desire to stay in the ARMY. No burn within my soul to become a Doctor. All the cards were on the table and my pickings were more chaff than wheat. I bummed around playing in a band and well, see where that got me. Undead and hating it.

Yes, it was because I had the power and preternatural strength of the undead I could fight Coraline and gain Beth back for her Mother. Yet, if I had never been a vampire my flames of influence would have never singed Kate Turner. It seems the world would have been a quieter, calmer place without Vampire Mick.

I would tear open any mail that wasn't a bill because once Kate carefully folded up a page from a coloring book that Beth had colored for Christmas, but the envelope had no return address. I figured they moved every year; I stopped hunting for her home by 1987.

Bonnie kept me busy, we walked on the beach at night, I'd follow her on her Ren Fair jewelry circuit and we'd live almost a mortal life. My cynical remarks would fly high over her head of raven curls, while I watch the healthy sway of her breasts behind her silk blouse, "You really hate what you are…. When you fill your lungs with air and take a step out at night, remember we'd most likely be dust in the ground right now…. Let's enjoy the night" of course then her smile would make steps toward softening my perennial crustiness and she'd show me something about the night sky or the sounds of the nocturnal birds and I'd ride out the crushing mood.

Bonnie's eyes betrayed her lips, they'd flash with electricity when she heard my cynical sighs, catching my hand in hers then she'd lay cool lips on the back of my hand and brush back and forth until the set of my shoulders told her I was unperturbed.

Then Josef "landed" with a provocative invitation for the two of us to attend his "Welcome Home, Josef" party. A year or so is but a flicker of time…. I had missed Josef with a "back of the mind" emotion. I knew the issue of feeding fresh would rear its hungry, ugly head when I didn't settle down on the chaise with a redhead on each thigh. I disliked the idea of broaching the subject in public, so it meant a quiet ride before the party.

"I don't believe you should involve yourself with such a radical group. This new deal is the deal, fall in line or fall out of favor" Josef barked into the phone as he paced in front of the desk. Nervous lackeys processed stacks of transactions and their eyes anxiously met mine as I cut thru the room, Josef was already in a mood and I was going to tweak it higher. I watched as he tucked a thumb into his pants waist then ran it up the suspender strap.

It felt like the air conditioner had given out as I approached my friend. The smarmy taste of treason backed up dry in my throat.

He punched the button on the phone and the call ended. "Ahh, my vacant comrade returns to the fold. Where have you been feeding lately, my girls have been lonely".

"I've missed you too" I clasped his hand as we hugged and I scented his recent feeding. The hot odor of fresh blood emanated from his flesh and I knew I'd phase if I hung tight to him. I dropped his hand and stood back, knowing my decision would be hard for him to accept, right now I was second guessing myself.

"So boyo, you and Bonnie are joining us Saturday?" He leaned back against the desk, boyish smile beaming that he could extend hospitality to a friend. Whatever anyone says about Josef Kostan he is generous to fault even though his generosity is balanced with his expectations of loyalty.

"We'll be by after dinner" so I dodged the stake, my insides screaming to change the subject. I felt a modicum of sweat collecting in the armpits of my duster.

"And I had an tangy A+ brought it just for you, although for the life of me I can't see why . . . . . some people's tastes" he prattled as I walked to the chair, I dragged my fingertips over the end table's carved beading. A gun could have been cocked in my face, silver bullets in the chamber, for how I felt.

"Have her draw it, I'll enjoy for dessert" I pursed my lips anticipating the freshly drawn versus the morgue blood. My self-delusional idea that drawing sustenance from morgue blood was more humane than bleeding the living caught Josef in his head and his heart, simply based on 400+ years of experience.

"You think it stops the feeding? You think one vampire sucking down dead and sick blood makes a difference?" his brows knit at the question, his face tied in an annoyed bow. "You buy dead blood and the money goes nowhere near the person who made it, at least I'm educating young women and men who would be working double shifts to earn what I pay." Josef entrenched himself in his largess, to hear from him, he was a damned fine humanitarian.

"It's a decision I've come to, Josef, I'm not asking you to follow suit" my hands dug deep into my duster pockets as I peered over the collar. The new proclamation on the wall decreed the Mayor of Los Angeles had cited Josef Kostan for "Outstanding Citizenship", all for Josef underwriting the summer pool programs in the cities. I chuckled to myself that he was simply scouting the next generation of willing Freshies in their swimsuits.

"One day, Mick, and you have my word, the call of exactly what you are will drill right through this self-righteousness and you will feed hungrily and happily from the first fraulein who offers up an arm." He laughingly offered up a cut crystal decanter, still warm as well as a glass of single malt, "Come on, one for the road, right? You can climb back on your high horse when you get home".

I smirked and shook my head, taking my leave for tonight.

By Saturday he was knee deep in blondes and never missed the fact that Bonnie and I had "missed dinner". "Do you miss it?" Bonnie asked as we sought the cool night air on the patio. I widened my stance and drew her between my knees, my hands around her wasp waist. I watched the city lights reflect in her dark eyes and took a bit too long to answer her, "Mick . . . . . do you miss feeding fresh?" Bonnie's lips were within inches of my ear and she spoke in a husky whisper.

"I don't think so.. .. .. .." I hadn't even thought of the answer, just shot back a sound bite, then sought her eyes and answered honestly, "It's not a necessity, I can get by on bagged, and anything else is victimization". I drew her closer, just for the peace she offered me. The nearly silent heart, her slow deep breathes when she whispered to me, Bonnie was everything Coraline wasn't.

"They are compensated" Bonnie toyed with a lock of my hair as we were nose to nose. She didn't feed fresh either, her choice had been decanting. Like the shopper who didn't want to see the cow before the ground beef, she was one who did not want to see the face who fed her.

"Let's talk about Miles Davis or that album that won the Grammy, Dexter Gordon, and "The Other Side of Round Midnight" Now I played with a stray curl from her updo. She smelled like ginger and patchouli. I wanted to get lost within her, deep within her.

That Monday I scanned a newspaper and saw the image of children making their First Communion Mother's Day, 1988 at the Cathedral. There was Beth, 7th from the end of the line, veiled, praying hands wrapped in a rosary awash in religious serenity.

That instigated the slow roll of curiosity that dogged me the rest of the week. Each evening I'd hunker down to work at whatever case was on the top of the stack. The clues would joust with the silkworm in my brain, that silkworm that was weaving the fabric for the curtain I hid behind. Sunrise, as I slid into my freezer I let little Beth's sanctified image be the last one projected in my consciousness.

If my affair with Coraline was a fever, Beth's cherubic image was the relieving balm.

When I woke the next day there was still time for the visit I had tried like hell to suppress.

"Cathedral Bookstore?" I held what would have been breath, waiting for the right direction thru the cavernous church.

A silent priest held up a bony finger and pointed to the sign with the arrows. I tripped down the steps and listened to the trill of the bells on the door. I could feel the marble dust on the cool worn steps to the basement store.

"I wanted to send a late gift to a child in the recent communion class, could you help me?" my eyes bored into the little Nun's and the tone caused Sister Marie's smile to light up her parchment skin face.

"What would you like to send?" her hand reached for a 3x5 file card box as she prepared to access their complex and sophisticated "registry".

"Beth Turner, did she register for any special medals or gifts?" I fingered the Fleury cross at my neck, but that would be too obvious a gift. I did stand closer as she set the card box down to locate Beth's card.

"Elizabeth Turner, St Helena's Parish?" Beady eyes peered at me over frameless lenses.

"Yes, Sister" Old parochial school manners kicked in, "Could you recommend a gift, please?" At that polite question the nun dropped the card on the counter and made careful squeaky steps to the back wall. I eyed the address on the card and then followed her to a wall of rosaries, medals and praying teddy bears. Her aged face beamed as she cuddled the praying angel teddy bear, her thin fingers nearly disappeared into the deep pink fur.

"Isn't this heavenly?" her voice turned girlish and she brightened to a sweet smile as she drew the furry angel bear to her face.

I paid the lady, dropped the change in the Poor Box and walked out with more than I had walked in with. Once I ran the address I discovered they had moved into a duplex Kate had rented under the name, "Angela O'Hara". I boxed the Angel Bear along with an envelope full of twenties for Kate. I let the delivery service make the presentation on Saturday morning between "The Shirt Tales" and "Muppet Babies".

Hiding in the shadows I watched Kate's face at delivery, she ducked outside and looked up and down the street, accepted the package and ripped it open on the doorstep. Was she worried someone had sent a horse's head? Her wary face softened at the card. I could hear her breath easy at the envelope of cash, she grinned at the cellophane wrapped angel bear. I let it go at that, giving them their privacy I returned to subzero oblivion.

As I hunkered down for the night I thought about how Kate had acted like we'd be friends after I returned Beth to her home, yet weeks had turned into months and we never saw or spoke to each other. Would the Angel bear bridge the three year gap?

The next day, no phone calls, the next week no carefully colored pages. Was Beth too big to color or had Kate cut the cord between the living and the undead?

It was Thursday night; it meant Bonnie was bringing dinner, A+ for me, B- for her and a quart of Orkney Islands Scotch Whisky.

The jam was playing light in the background, the fireplace lit. I had spent the earlier part of the evening wandering the loft, then popped up to the roof for a bit of watching the traffic move up West 5th. The night's light breeze had spun upward to blow my hair back and dry what I thought were the ends of my pity party. I had counted off the days since I had watched Kate accept Beth's gift.

For Kate my desire and passion had run the gamut through anxiety and panic finally spiraling downward to despair over her mortal time wasted with me. Enough was enough, mortal women needed mortal men and so did their innocent daughters. Kate was the frustrating past, Bonnie was my brilliant future.

Bonnie let herself into the loft and tippy toed out to the roof. I felt her cheek against the center of my back and her gentle hands slid into my pants front pockets.

"Indovina chi?" (Guess who?) She purred.

"The Avon Lady speaks Italian?" I huskily replied, falling prey to her soft breasts pressing into my back, her hips poised to press me into the wall.

"You are incorrigible" Bonnie shook her head and bounced around me to slide between me and the wall.

"Yet, you keep on coming back for more" I caught her shoulders in a loose squeeze and just appreciated the instant.

Bonnie saw my dried tears and pressed silent lips over the tracks, her tongue delicately danced up my cheek to kiss my closed eyelids.

"Tonight you get to show me why" She broke loose and extended her fingers for me to follow her back into the loft.

When all her clothing was gone, I rose and faced her.

Bonnie gazed at me bemused as she stood before me, nude and magnificent. God…she's beautiful. "Come here, come to me…" I reached up, longing for the feel of that beautiful body against me. "I want you…I want you…"

I stood beside the bed and began to pull at my clothing. "Get this off…get it off…" her hands pulled at my shirt, shaking with desire, fumbling with buttons.

I was shaking also. Our desire, and the intensity of it, had taken us aback a little bit, but I wasn't going to stop her now! We were still for a moment, chest heaving with my panting breath, looking down at her. Suddenly I got up and walked away, going to the bureau, where I stood leaning into, head hanging down.

"Mick? What…?"

I interrupted her, speaking without turning around, in a low growl. "Wait…it's too much…just wait…I need to…get hold of…myself." I straightened and took a mentally necessary deep breath. "I don't want to mislead you…just give me a little time..."

"All right. It's all right. Just don't…don't mislead me, whatever do you mean mislead me?"

I turned to look at her then. I had regained my balance; she could see it in my face, in the more relaxed set of my shoulders. "No. Oh no, I won't change my mind. How could I…when you're lying there, like that…looking like…an angel…"

I walked slowly back, gazing at her all the while, my look resolved, penetrating. When I reached the edge of the bed I stopped. "…You are so beautiful… so desirable…and you are mine. Mine to touch, and hold, and kiss…it's a dream, a dream…"

Bonnie realized that I was deliberately slowing the pace, forcing myself to maintain control. Is she wasn't sure that was a good idea; she didn't voice that opinion. I knew she wanted with all her heart to feel our passion unrestrained. But she was the one capable of rational thought, and that she'd rather have me restrained than not at all.

She urged me down to the bed, reaching a hand up to take mine. "Come here to me, Mick. Come to me, my dear…oh, amore mio "

I slid down beside her, stretching full length out next to her, but not touching her. The words choked out of me. "I want…I want to touch you…forever" My voice broke, the urgency was apparent in my next words, "I want to slide my hands all over you…, I want to taste you, I want you to taste me"

"Oh, Mick, I want that too! So much" She took my hand, and watching darkened eyes, she raised it gently and slowly placed it on her breast. "Right here, oh Mick, touch me here!"

How long had we been lovers? So many months, almost years, yet after these crisis of conscious the steps always began anew. I seemed to take that as the permission I needed. My body slid over to press against hers, and my hand stayed where she had put it, moving gently over her breast, while I watched it with adoration.

"So soft…so unbelievably soft…" my head dropped nearer. Slowly I moved to touch her breast with my mouth, and as slowly my lips closed over her peaked nipple. "M-m-m-m." My growling moan said all that she wanted to hear.

Her undead body was alive with sensation; I had instilled it into her with a touch, with a kiss. My mouth on her breast was fire and ice, driving sluicing sensations down to the vee of her thighs, making her gasp and writhe.

"Oh Mick…. Do that, oh, yes, that!"

My hands were closed over her upper arms, soothing her cool flesh there with passionate tenderness. I raised my head to make room for my hands to curl again around her breasts. "I've found such a paradise in touching you…here…"

"And to …" Her eyes were intent, following the movement of my hands. Slowly they slid down her body, touching her flesh with placid pressure. I slid over the bones of her hips, and began to move inward to the place where my eyes were fastened on with euphoric craving.

I pushed down the bed until I was lying between her thighs. My hands now moved over the brown curls of her pubic mound, then moved lower, to part the lips below.

"Ah-h-h." It was a soft exclamation of gratified desire. We could do this nightly, yet each meeting was as if there were years of dreaming and longing.

Gently I parted her petals of flesh my eyes following her every small movement, and devouring what I saw. "…So beautiful…so delicate…so desirable…" My eyes lifted to meet hers in silent question.

"Oh, Mick, yes, please! …Ah-h-h-h!" The exclamation was forced from her by the incredible sensation my mouth gave touching her very center. "Ah innamorato, O-o-o-h…" She was incoherent within seconds.

As I tasted the gift of her body, any hesitation melted. That low growl began again in my chest, and I pushed her thighs wider to gain even more of her. I opened wide and took in as much of her as I could, rolling my tongue and sucking, my fangs emerged slightly and played with the delicate leaves of her flesh. Exultation arrowed through me as I heard her cries of rapturous desire and all control left me.

Pulling her legs up over my shoulders, I rose up to my knees, carrying her body with me until I was looking down into the site of my every dream. My hands moved back down to her breasts, while my mouth resumed its plundering.

Then, as she crested the wave of her coming, I bit. Bonnie's body arched and she cried out in an agony of pleasure as her climax tore through her. I shuddered as I felt the gift we shared. The depth and magnitude of her pleasure thrilled me so, and it took a great effort that I contained my own climax. My fangs clenched and my face wore a look of passionate torment as I held on to our shared passion. I wasn't through yet; there were many more pleasures to be plucked from our lovemaking, I wanted them all, and we would have them all.

I returned Bonnie's body gently to the bed. When she began to take notice of her surroundings again she realized I was gently kissing her face, making soft noises of two people in love.

She took my face between her hands. "Oh Mick…I can't tell you how…"

"I know. I …. relished it too." I smirked that lopsided smile at her, showing those fangs that marked us as the special couple we were. I stopped to kiss her, and when I raised my head the smile was gone, and my words erupted with intensity. "But…I want more, Bonnie. I want it to happen again; I want to lose myself in you, to find your very center, to come into you with… "

I had no words for what I needed. My driving kiss was more demanding this time, and she found herself ready to respond. She smiled up at me "It's your turn now, we can make this a 3 act play…..first act down, 2 to go" her smile disappeared and her voice thickened, "Come into me; I want you inside of me….show me everything you've got . . . . . ." The rest of her sentence disappeared into the heat of my mouth. My growl was back, deep in my chest, a low counterpoint to her small moans of pleasure.

I groped for her hands without lifting my mouth from hers and when I found them, drew them over her head and clasped both wrists in one hand while my other moved back down to her body. I lifted my head then to look at her, observing her hands tightly prisoned in his, her breasts lifted by her arms' position to a place oh so convenient to my mouth. With a small inward turned smile, I lowered my head and my lips to her nipple.

Bonnie watched me with astonished pleasure. She brought out my heart song, the growling primal song that two beings sang at midnight. We growled that same soft growl together while my mouth slid from the breast to move down her body. I knew she felt my teeth every moment, not biting but making them felt nevertheless. Then shivers raced up and down her as my mouth opened further and fangs grasped at her skin.

"Ah, God, you're so magnificent, so delicious…" Our eyes met and she smiled slyly. "May I have just a small bite? Here… and here… and here…" I nipped gently at her ribs, the side of her waist, and the inside of her upper arm.

"You can have anything you want…anything at all." She squirmed under my fangs. "God, Mick, oh…"

"I want…this." My hand cupped her between her legs, then released her hands and moving lower, inserted my knee between hers and moved her legs apart, making room for my body to lie between them. "I want this….so much…and I'll take it…now!"

My hard cock nudged at the delta of her thighs, sensing her heat, her hunger, I slid inside her. "A-h-h-h…" We sighed together, enunciating ecstasy in the pleasures remembered and yet to be enjoyed.

Stock still for a moment, eyes closed, savoring the reality of what was happening we hung in the moment. Then I moved purposefully, filling her with measured speed and potent power. When I found myself fully seated in her I sought her eyes "Oh, Bonnie …my love…"

Drawing long slow strokes, watching her face, seeing the pleasure that made her gasp and writhe, seeing what I was doing to her, feeling her body's response, it was too much. The urge caught me and movement quickened, and quickened again. In a few seconds more I felt the white light blind me that I could only see the faint pulse at her neck. I bit agonizing pleasure as the crash came over me with fabulous power. In its midst I felt the robust contractions of her body around me and cried out again, in concert with her.

When Bonnie opened her eyes I was lying on my back, arms at my sides, palms out, in an attitude of exhaustion, still breathing hard. She smiled to herself. "Sometimes it takes it out of you, doesn't it? Sublimation does that."

But when I turned to her, I nodded, looking elated - triumphant, almost. "You're all I need" I scattered soft kisses up and down her face. "M-m-m…you taste so good…you feel so good…" I stopped, looking into her eyes. "I love you with every part of me. You are…" Tears sprang from deep within me. "I don't know how to tell you how much I love you, and how grateful I …"

And with my confession she folded smaller than she was into my arms. No man stands as grand as when he holds what is dearest to his heart, the both of us trembling with completion. I was fulfilled; there was a road forward where I wasn't running off the berm. It was with Bonnie.

The following week it was following philandering husbands, invoicing the broken hearted wives and planning a getaway to Idaho's Lake Hayden. I was piecing together all the bits of conversations Bonnie and I had – her favorite movies, her music, the wines she especially enjoyed tinged with B-. Gun-shy I wasn't ready to propose anything more than this century, yet I was ready to break into the 21st century with her if she'd have me.

"Bon, you free next week?" I walked the loft, phone to my ear. Showered, shaved I was feeling confident.

"For you I am, I don't have a show until the end of the month" she was flipping the pages of her planner, I could hear them slipping from her fingers, "What's on your scandalous mind?"

"Then that wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" We chatted about Thursday's dinner date, the price of gas and Josef's latest Freshie, then she closed the call.

"Mick, I have a meeting for a commission, they want some wedding jewelry, so I have to cut and run – they'll be here any minute, I'll call you later, amore mio" her smile burst thru the phone and I blew a sloppy kiss into the receiver.

I bounded up the steps to Bonnie's apartment; the moon's absence signaled our time to recharge goals, or set new ones. My monthly "ritual" of flowers and a gold heart charm charged my intention with somewhat of a romantic power. Other times of the month I set intentions, yet with each month's new moon was a way to do it in a more conscious way.

There is power in coming up with visions for your life, and keeping them in your sights as they come into being. Even as I fully committed to those visions, I fought to stay flexible; since new doors opened that I didn't expected.

I implored the strength of the new Moon, when goals and wishes take root, as I stretched for spiritual wisdom, drawing on unseen allies and leaving the door open to magical change. With some semblance of luck I might get what I ask for, or something even better that I couldn't imagine yet.

Her CD player bellowed the Spyro Gyra album I had brought her last week, "Bonnie" I announced myself and knocked at the door, confused by it falling open. I scented blood and my heart clenched; I followed the sanguine track back to her garage showroom and fell to my knees.

Bonnie's head sat atop the showcase, a fleur de lis drawn with her blood on the glass. The halogen light below illuminated the grisly scene brilliantly. A paper sat trembling beside the deadly tableau,

_"St John:_

_An eye for an eye, a life for a life._

_I am quite sure she suffered much less than my sister did._

_It is with infinite concern that we became aware of our sister's death._

_We each grieve in our own way, and mind you Mr. St John, there are five more brothers grieving._

_Pierre DuVall"_

I believe I hit the floor with grief before the paper dropped from my shuddering fingers.

"Hiya, I came to read to you" the same perky candy striper posed in the doorway, blond pigtails bobbed as she grinned at the old man, "I heard you weren't feeling so well. . . ." she took cautious steps to the stack of books on the nightstand. Edgar Allen Poe, Bram Stoker, Mary Shelley…. Who picked all these books, the high school freshman wondered.

"Those are the books he smiles at" Mandy, the senior ranking candy striper piped in as she stood in the door, the auburn haired sophomore had 250 hours to the younger girl's 15. Mandy liked to haze the newbies just a tad.

"He doesn't smile, he doesn't do anything but sit there" Bobbie frowned, hoping to score a life changing course of service. . . . Something she could put on her college applications.

"He can hear you right now… … Go to room 6138, there's a guy from Kandahar who wants someone to read the newspaper" Mandy sidled up to the book stack and grabbed "Dracula", "I'll take over here in the crypt" Bobbie had described the room's occupant as "the Crypt Keeper" for his age and it didn't bother Mandy. She palmed the book and pulled her chair close so she didn't have to shout. Mandy always believed the old man could understand every word she read and he seemed to be happier when she read it slow and husky.

So she began: "Jonathan Harker's Journal, May 3. Bistritz.- Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets."

Then she editorialized, "You know, I think he's getting in deeper than he ever expected" Mandy always took time to make eye contact, even for an old guy he had beautiful eyes, "You think Vampires are cool? I do….."

TBC…

_**I'm not in love, so don't forget it, It's just a silly phase I'm going through**_

_**And just because I call you up don't get me wrong, don't think you've got it made**_

_**I'm not in love, no-no (It's because...)**_

_**I like to see you, but then again that doesn't mean you mean that much to me**_

_**So if I call you, don't make a fuss don't tell your friends about the two of us**_

_**I'm not in love, no-no (It's because...)**_

_**(Be quiet, big boys don't cry)**_

_**(Big boys don't cry)**_

_**(Big boys don't cry)**_

_**(Big boys don't cry)**_

_**(Big boys don't cry)**_

_**(Big boys don't cry)**_

_**(Big boys don't cry)**_

_**I keep your picture upon the wall it hides a nasty stain that's lyin' there**_

_**So don't you ask me to give it back I know you know it doesn't mean that much to me**_

_**I'm not in love, no-no (It's because...)**_

_**Ooh, you'll wait a long time for me, Ooh; you'll wait a long time**_

_**Ooh, you'll wait a long time for me, Ooh; you'll wait a long time**_

_**I'm not in love, so don't forget it it's just a silly phase I'm going through**_

_**And just because I call you up don't get me wrong, don't think you've got it made, ooh**_

_**I'm not in love; I'm not in love...**_


	8. Chapter 8

To keep the flavor of the show, segments of the dialogue are taken directly the show

(I don't own the show, but boy howdy would I like to!)

I wanted to show the direction I would have skewed it... 

* * *

><p>This couldn't have happened at a more tenuous time. The post pubescent Candy Striper was sailing thru page after page of Jonathan Harker's misadventures while the old man began his ultimate "relaxation". Out of the corner of her young eye she caught his breath slowing, his smile widening. All the while his eyes lit as if he were greeting a long lost love.<p>

Mandy began to read slower to check his response. Was it the predicament that Mina was wading into, or was the old guy trying to communicate with her? When was that good looking Doctor when you needed him? The machines kept the regular rhythm, so she continued to read.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I had drawn a bead on Kate a few months after Bonnie was killed. In 1988 I had kicked around L.A., considering relocation when a shiny red Mercedes Diesel caught my eye. The driver's hairstyle wasn't familiar but I found myself following the car at a good distance. I followed the car all the way to a small private school and instinctively hung back. There was Kate, letting Beth out of the car, delivering her into the hands of a Nun at the doorway. I had to fight to keep from pumping the air that I had found her again. How long would I keep tabs this time?

Time? I had all the time in the world. I had parked my heart and my libido at Bonnie's execution. I had put my shoulder into working 5 days a week and decided that I needed a hobby. I'd plunk on the guitar and scratch a few notes on paper; nothing hit me so I packed that up for the umpteenth time. I wasted a bundle on large canvases and acrylics, thinking the medium would allow me to play with texture and color since my life had so little of either. That's when I decided Beth Turner needed a guardian angel.

It was a secret joy as I caught the glint of Beth's cerulean eyes when school ended in June and discovered how "piney" the forests at summer camp were. I reluctantly wore the same duster for the two weeks hiding in the shadows at Camp Shady Branch once it was blobbed with tree sap. By the 3rd day I journeyed into the sleepy town up the road for hiking boots, Brogues didn't cut it for tracking undetected behind a patrol of teens while they collected leaves for collages.

Of all the high pitched squeals and musical giggles Beth's rang pure and clear above the rest. Her melodious voice rambled on about the ridiculousness of a 10pm lights out and the magnificence of some lifeguard's biceps. For 13 she was moving too fast for my taste.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"Mom, I have to check my bedroom one last time" Beth bellowed as she stood braced in the front doorway. It looked as if she didn't want to leave the home they'd occupied for the last 3 years.

Once Beth trudged through the home she reluctantly buckled herself into her beater of a car while I watched the moving van carry away the contents of their duplex when Beth left for college; Kate was heading up the coast to shadow Beth. Did she know it had been my hobby to follow Beth on dates and sleepovers throughout High School? I sent the tow truck to Jeff Barkley's Mustang parked on a dark road, was it the steam on the windows or the lilt of her refusal that sent my anger thru the roof?

I'd drop a dime on any of the flatfoots that thought buying Beth a burger and beer paved the highway to their backseat nirvana. She never knew, Kate never knew – I'm that good now. As the years progressed the only aging I experienced was mellowing from a bag man to a hit man to a bonified gum shoe. I stayed away from kidnapping cases, though…..one was enough.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

She graduated without too much brouhaha. There was one night I wanted to dive in with both feet and pull her out of the "Rush" party, it was just a better idea to pull the fire alarm and beat feet at vamp speed. Once she graduated was I surprised when Beth Turner's smiling face turned up online? It wasn't the hard-hitting factual reports that had my attention, it was the ridiculous pride I had at seeing her all grown up. I didn't quite feel like a pedophile any more.

= = = = = = = = = = = =  
><strong>2007<strong>

I had nothing on my plate, just finished a divorce case that had me re-examining why anyone would EVER marry. I had slipped into my freezer and took 40 winks. Unpredictably I woke early, the sun hadn't even set – why was I up an hour early? I slid into my pajama pants and had breakfast as my laptop booted up for the news. There she was, Beth Turner for BuzzWire. Beth had that indefatigable pull and I was the Moon that had been drawn to orbit her.

The night was crisp; I heard the staccato of mortal heartbeats striking a rhythm against the fountain's dancing gurgle. A third of them grossed out by the sight of a dead coed swathed in pink cloth, dead in a fountain. A third of them were slogging along counting the minutes till their coffee break and the last third were secretly getting off on being that close to a semi-warm corpse.

Beth worked the crime scene like a pit bull, a delicate and precisely determined pit bull. She had Carl twitching to the extent I had to clip behind a tree, nearly chuckling at his irritation. I watched her pull out her iPhone and snap the image of the dead girl in the fountain; I read her sadness at the fact the girl was just a bit younger than she. Then as the camera lights flipped off I watched her as she formulated her second report, the one that would throw the blood into the water about "Vampires among us".

My feet were stationary, as she moved into my periphery all I could do was stare, my eyes eating up all she is, her glow and her vivacity. I should have retreated, made steps back into the tree line, but she caught me.

"Do I know you?' her eyes lit with curiosity as she approached me.

"You tell me" I was concentrating on my rebuttals; I knew she wouldn't let the line of questioning drop.

"You're a cop, right?" the tilt of her hip, how it angled opposite her shoulder I read her bravado, the face she wore to her public.

"No", when you lie, keep your answers simple, complicated lies always unravel faster.

"Reporter?" The question posed as if she were poking a beehive politely with a stick.

I answered with another shake of my head, not a bit of desire to spar or lie again.

"We've met before, you look very familiar" now her hair became a halo around her face, the twinkle in her eyes amped as she pursued my identity.

"Well, maybe I've got one of those faces". And that's where I wish the conversation had ended, but she drove on.

"OK, question, what do you like better, Vampire Slaying Rocks LA…"

I cut her off, "There's no such thing as vampires"

She turned as if to get a nod of consent from the victim, "I don't think the girl in the fountain would agree" and I was gone…. I had to be. I had played it too close, she was smarter than the average juvenile kidnapping victim and I had to make tracks out of her line of sight.

= = = = = = = = =

If I had to breathe, I would have been breathless, if my heart beat had been more than a whisper it would have thudded out of my chest. How long would it take her to scroll thru that rolodex in her brain and finger me for the guy who killed a woman in her presence?

I heel – toed it all the way back to the Benz and threw the car into drive. Back to the loft I threw myself into the freezer, hoping the D.A. boyfriend of hers would keep Beth tied in in love knots. Knowing Josef was keeping mortal hours I set the timer for 10:00am, surely the vampire lead in would grab his attention and he'd grab at my short hairs. Just more of the old enforcer "business"coming back into play.

The house Josef was occupying had so much mid-20th century charisma; the cool jungle foliage encapsulated the fragrance of the banana trees lining the walk way thru the pond. I thought about corn flakes and the thin slices of bananas my Mom would serve up before she packed me off to school as I watched the koi circulate within the dark water. Josef was already his threatening best as I circled the shag carpet, nothing like burnished orange leather to perch on as Josef finished his verbal sparring.

Josef's chirpy close, "My best to the family" prepared me for his mood.

I got my ear full of JK Attitude before I headed over to see "G" at the morgue to do a little grocery shopping while I checked out the coed's body in the morgue. So now I drive, haunted by the whole Kate/Beth case, immersed in that era and the thought of facing Beth in a professional capacity.

Nothing like having to spout the "Client confidentiality" line while I tap dance around a Goth teen's apartment, of course Beth was there. Who taught her to pick lock? On the record, it was NOT me. I palmed the blood jewelry while she was making nice with her guy on her cell. I think I heard her whine about my second disappearing act, my hearing is that good; my dealing with Beth isn't quite yet.

There's a planetary pull when she's within hearing distance, whether it's in person or on line. The lilt of her voice, the wave of her hair, I just need to be honest, Beth unhinges me. I'm pressed between hoping her D.A. does everything in his mortal and masculine power to galvanize her toward a bridal bower. I want Beth firmly entrenched in a marriage with a stalwart guy. Is this Josh guy the alpha male for her? I put money into the candle boxes at the Church for it, I truly do.

= = = = = = = = = =

The sting that was too tangible in 1985 festered up and reemerged. What manifested in the next few days left me with an arm full of Beth, again. The "vampire" thing that Josef agonized over was a non-issue, if that dolt wants to spout his gospel of Prajñic malarkey he best watch over his shoulder. I ended up on the receiving end of stiletto (Not the 4" red soled type either) and she ended up on my sofa.

"You saved me" her words were arrows piercing our reality, my attempts to set them within the context of tonight were blown off, and any way she rephrased the sentiment it flew in my face that Beth had recognized me.

Unbending, concrete, I stood there before her, foolishly wearing the shirt with the knife gash while my body bore no scar. Her eyes widened as her words escaped without exemption. I tried not to wear those words as she spoke them.

In 1985 I was the one opening my arms to carry her back to Kate, it's 2007 and tonight once Beth woke from the Grad Student's sedative her arms encircled me, warmed me, and healed me for just this night. When her arms enfolded me her gravitational pull carried my arms around her shoulders. We did the sympathetic embrace while the dead dull feeling I usually own in my hands and arms took a breeze. I felt her warmth and her vitality like a shot. It was long lost; it was foreign and so damned energizing I almost missed feeding after she left. Almost.

= = = = = = = = = =

I knew I had to snap out of this. I couldn't cruise through her life like a shadow without her seeing me now. She had cast me in the "savior" light without knowing my nature, a fatally flawed assumption. Tonight I watched the hubbub over the self-absorbed Professor; delusional to the point he thought he was a vampire. Her caress had unleashed menacing thoughts.

As a young woman Beth's innocence had grown into a sensual veneer. She was round in all the right places, she was curious; she was insatiable in all her pursuits. Her arms around me woke a sleeping dragon, my patent concern for a child had morphed through an infatuation into a fresh full tilt crush of rushing emotions, something deeper and unlike what I had ever had for Lilah or for Coraline.

I didn't want to call it love, I droned the mantra, "I'm not in love" until nothingness would overcome me each morning as I sought sub-zero oblivion

I walked the night nursing this feeling inside me. It was that electric tingling that grabbed at the hidden corners of my brain where snapshots of Beth rested, waiting for my down time to come to life.

What misplaced meeting would occur next?

= = = = = = = = = = =

The Doctor was peevish. He stood at the foot of the old man's bed. His patient was someone who had made the "books" for his sustaining a "lock in state" for longer than any other patient. The Doctor had inherited the case fresh out of his Residency and he wondered if his Resident, a gregarious young woman would accept the case from him.

The Doctor had accepted a Fellowship with a Brain and Spinal Cord organization, no doubt because of his fastidious notes about this man lying silently before him. He'd be signing off this case within the month and by the looks of the issues currently presenting perhaps they'd be leaving at the same time.

The Doctor sat bedside, running his hand thru his whiskey brown hair as he flipped thru the file. His intense brown eyes scrolled thru pages scanned into the record, had he missed anything that could have changed this man's destiny? The syndrome had resulted from the man's traumatic brain injury. The bright eyed patient was conscious and could reflect and reason, but was incapable to speak or move. The Doctor and the Resident had spent profuse hours reading or playing music on the chance he'd answer with blinking eye movements. Nothing had elicited a response, except Edgar Allen Poe or Mary Shelley. When they read about Vampires or Ravens the body in the bed seemed to relax, seemed to come "alive" through his eyes.

The Doctor minimized the screen and closed out of the medical file. It was 10:48 and the sunrise would find him back on the other end of the ward, so he called it a night.

= = = = = = = = = = = = =

I heard her call Coraline "the scary woman", if Beth only knew how much so. Just as I was heading for the freezer I caught the sound of the newspaper hitting the front door. If only I had dispatched this criminal when I had him in an alley, these days my life was made up of "If Only's".

That evening there was the gift of the 25 year old single malt and my generating the lie about "strong genes". I can handle one reporter, I can't juggle two inquisitive women picking into my past. Why Julia had to include my photo in her book is beyond me, can they write books about people without their permission? I guess they can.

I made a pilgrimage to see Bobby, the first in decades where I actually knocked on his door and asked myself in. The thought of breaking a hip sounded good coming from my old cop friend. In another life the blind man on a pension could have been me.

I was making a habit of going places I shouldn't so following Beth to the reception for Julia's book and seeing Lee Jay Spaulding just tipped the scale toward recklessness. Once Spaulding vilified me and Beth made her good – nights I was left with the flashback of Bobby Desmond's call, the botched attack and the guilt trip that sort of plunged me into more idiocy.

When I heard the breaking bottles in the loft I was hoping it was Josef's rant over my bottled blood. My nightmares were only launching, with Lee Jay there and his hands on speed dial to the cops, I did the cowardly thing, I cut and run.

Watching the halogen lights bouncing off the Kodak Building I had to hear Josef's admonitions, his accusations about "some blonde reporter" and suggestions to relocate. It was the tradeoff for blood and some clean clothes.

Little did I know I was facing the opportunity to meet Beth's Josh? Hey, I had nowhere else to go. I knew Josh was picking at Beth over her involvement with me. He thought I had introduced certain insanity into Beth's life and since he was part of her life I guess I had injected that darkness into his also. I stood outside her hallway, hearing his litany of issues with me then I gathered up my fear and knocked on Beth's door.

Vampires hear a wider range of sound, see further, possess extreme strength. All of this goes terribly south when you're caught doing any of these things on "public". All my talents aside, I needed Beth to mount my defense via a Web interview.

Why had I run? "I guess I panicked" was better than admitting I was a vampire. Amid Josh's whining about his role as an officer of the court, etc. we did what we had to do to acquit me of any crimes against Lee Jay. Have I mentioned how ugly it is to be right about a criminal in your midst? The call rang in that revealed Lee Jay for what he was, and it found Beth along my side when we headed to what I should have known would be an ambush. Julia played right into Lee Jay's hands and dragged us in behind her.

Some declarations become benchmarks in a life. I dodged answering Beth's question about "What do you mean, I know what you are, Mick" although the words crawled under my undead flesh.

My demand, "Do you know how to use that" revealed she did as she handled the handgun with some audacity. Her answer was, "Why does the girl always have to wait in the car?" I chuckled at her complaint as I loped into uncertainty.

My usual rock'em, sock'em would have worked to release Julia if it hadn't been for the silver buckshot and Lee Jay wielding a welding torch. The situation had advanced far, far past an imbroglio into labyrinth into hell.

In the face of flames I made my peace with whatever god would have me. No feeling in my feet, my hands, the numbness overtaking my legs, the shakes were overtaking me in the face of Lee Jay's fiery justice. Sounds were fading; my vision narrowing and then I flinched as I saw Lee Jay drop the torch as he fell to the floor beside me. Then silence after the gunshot, yeah, it was a gunshot – was the silence my death?

The image of Lee Jay's dead eyes opposite mine fed just enough adrenaline for me to book it out of that warehouse. I don't know how I got home; I can't even count the moments it took for me to burst through the door and tear into a bag of blood I had purloined from the back of an ambulance. I should have kicked the door closed, I thought I had, but it gets better than all of this death play tonight.

The conversational tit for tat occurred once Beth slid into the loft. I could smell her curiosity; I could smell the adrenaline from her first "kill", even in my depleted state I knew she was panning for my secrets.

"Please leave" my voice was broken, weak for my perceived 30 some years.

"Not without answers" Had her voice powered up from her vanquishing evil while wielding a firearm. Then the probing started into all those open silver filled holes peppered over my body.

"I keep dreaming about you, why?"

As if I could answer her with my mouth barely able to form cautioning words, all I could warn was, "Please don't look at me".

"Oh, my god, what are you?" Her eyes wide, grasping for the last hold of reality.

"I'm a vampire", the voice wasn't mine. It wasn't the fearless defender, I was the broken monster.

That was all it took, she dropped to her knees and watched as I slumped against the sofa table. She might as well been the 50' Alice in Wonderland as I lay on my back seeing her hands in fists at her mouth. She watched fearlessly as the blood did its job, healing the buckshot, bringing my eyes almost back to their blue-green, turning my flesh from blue pallor to white pallor.

"I need more…." I had dropped the near empty bag on my chest after struggling to push every milliliter into my mouth.

"Let me help" Beth reached into her purse and drew out a Swiss Army knife, the one with the scissors and the corkscrew.

"STAY BACK" she warned the corkscrew between her knuckles.

I was frozen, unable to make a move toward her as she caught the bag and snipped the corner. "Open wide" she moved the remaining drops to the corner and held the bag over my split lips. My tongue flashed hungrily at what little remained in the bag. "Where do you keep your groceries?" accentuating "groceries" as if they word carried air quotes.

"Behind… the … glassware …. On …. the …. shelf" Only my eyes could direct her, I lay motionless in my recovery mode.

Quick on the uptake, she was back on her knees beside me, holding the bag out of my reach, "IF I feed you this, are you going to hurt me?"

With a lot of control I could force the shakes into a passable "No"

"Is that a "NO" or an "I don't know"?" Her blue eyes flashed as her lips stretched grimly, the bag held higher.

"No, . . . . .it's . . . . . a . . . . . no" I faltered with a shiver, the burn of silver circulating throughout my body now.

Oddly, the tip of her pink tongue escaped her mouth, "Open up"; she clipped the bag end and let it flow over my hungry chapped lips. As it filled me my hands relaxed, my knees straightened out and my fangs began to recede. She was meting the blood out, pushing every drop into me.

"Did you need more?" She was flush, sweating at the prospect of bringing a vampire back from the brink. Surely she was questioning her working relationship with me, at least she should have. When my hurkey jerky spasms stopped Beth came to her senses. She backed away on her knees, as if to hide her gradual movement then as she neared the door she ducked out of it slamming it behind her.

I lay there, grateful yet conversely irritated. If I had been an oyster, the week's irritations would have yielded a gratuitously large string of pearls. My gratitude lay that I had the where with all to get G over here to pull the buckshot out of my back. He wouldn't ask too many questions about the air of fear that Beth left in her retreat.

Josef, on the other hand would pick right up on the exotic fusion of curiosity and arousal Beth left as she ministered to my needs. If I had summoned my strength all I could have managed was clutching her into my arms to rain kisses over her hair, her face and her succulent neck, not to bite her. The Princess had rescued the ogre, only I hadn't the magic to turn into her Prince.

Who would have thought that defending me to Lee Jay's death and bringing me back from the brink of a true death would be such a turn on? I was inexplicably drawn to her, beyond her beauty. Her trust to grab a hellion from the brink of death only captivated me more.

"Hey, up on the island, since that's as close to gurney you've got" G good naturedly gestured, Splinter forceps in hand. I dragged my sorry ass to lay on the cool stainless as he afforded me a bit more dexterity and care that his usual "patients". My lips didn't slip a bit as to how or why I was in this condition, yet G sniffed as he probed verbally and dexterously. "Who is she?" his usual grin twisted with effort as he caught the feel of the last spec of buckshot.

"Beth Turner saved my life, she shot Lee Jay"

= = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I could hear her cleansing breathes, the hitch in her heart beat, her halting steps to face my door and gather the strength to knock.

"Ok. I'm here to talk . . . . . to you about you" with a 20 something's bluntness she announced in the hallway.

"Maybe you should come in" I stepped out of the doorway, dreading her line of questioning.

Sitting opposite me she launched with "I really need you to tell me that I didn't see what I saw, what I think I saw, the blood the fangs. . . . . . . I heard what you said" The scent of her confusion churned with curiosity.

"That I'm a vampire" and her scent spiked with that arousal, this time a nurturing arousal that could draw us into hours of laborious sweaty entwinements.

The conversation took a dive from there. She had too many questions, the kind that peeled back the healing flesh in my heart. Too many reporter-type questions proliferated from those rose bud lips. The momentary resolution just wedged time between then and when we'd come to a better understanding. Beth knew I trusted her, now I was going to find out how much she trusted me.

What do you do when the one thing you need to save your life is the one thing that would make life unbearable?

What do you do when the one thing you desire is the one thing that robs the life of the one you hold dearest?

= = = = = = = = = = = =

The morning brought rain, it brought the day shift shuffling to their appointed cases, it brought the Doctor directly to the old man first. The tall bottle of cranberry juice plunked down before the Doctor's tropical wool clad buttocks hit the chair. The patient had presented a more degraded state this dreary morning.

His feet had gone bluish, mottling working its way up – "Pulses are gone in the feet" The Doctor shook his head as he worked his way around the aged figure.

"How much time has he got?" The Resident had appeared in the doorway, as if drawn by the specter of death that hung over the room.

"More blankets, let's get a morphine drip to make this easier" the Doctor wouldn't put a time on the old man, things had always moved by the old guy's "clock".

"You think this is it?" The resident whispered directly into the Doctor's ear.

"He couldn't reach us from this locked in neurological state at least we can give him comfort in the end", the Doctor moved with graceful speed, checking lines, setting dosages – a certain ballet for a lithe passing.

The blonde Resident stood at the end of the bed, surveying this man who in the bloom of youth must have cut a dashing figure. Miraculously the program of neuromuscular stimulation and physical therapy had prevented him from wasting into a sad, birdlike figure. The Nutritionists had pumped him full of the cutting edge cocktails for thorough nourishment, his skin was nearly unlined and his snowy hair splayed luxuriously on the pillow. If he could have voiced his tales, she was sure she would have been entertained.

The Doctor took the patient's hand, and speaking over his shoulder to the Resident he whispered "The last sense to leave us is hearing" Then he turned to his patient and knuckling back a tear he spoke, "It's been such an honor to know you. I hope that I've, that we've given you what you needed". 


	9. Chapter 9

Beth accepted me; she welcomed me, all of me, especially the part about my being undead. Professionally we crossed paths over and over until the new D.A. let me know I needed to take two steps back from the blonde. The new D.A. wasn't Josh; it was a new guy with eyes that burned after me with an uncertain curiosity, Ben Talbot.

About Josh, I did everything I could to save his life. I carry the guilt in my heart every day. Justice wasn't served the day Josh was shot in a pachuco's truck. I did serve up a bit of Vampire justice later to take out the trash. I felt Beth's pain at losing a man with whom she had fallen out of love. He's been gone just long enough for Beth and me to come to an understanding…..

We're dating now. Not power dating, just courting in the sense of my generation. No funny business, no sleep overs and I keep Beth off my couch. For all my vampire strengths I am too weak, mentally and spiritually to consider I could keep the freezer lid down thinking about her on my sofa, heating up the leather there with that warm blood of hers.

Her smile is like a wave on the ocean; it dances and carries all the happiness from her heart to mine. She runs her index finger down my jaw and I have to anchor my heels into the ground to keep from grabbing and grinding everything I've got into her.

"Just lay down with me" Beth's eyes jerked over her shoulder to that bedroom alcove off her living room. I have to confess those louvered doors NEVER kept the scent of sex contained in her bedroom. I fought back a stiffie every time I called on her, then the scent of Josh and his blood on my hands broke the urge to take her. Call it primeval passion control.

I riposted with, "Let's watch the stars" and headed to her balcony. She caught me from behind, molding herself to my back and embraced my belt buckle with her gentle hands. "I said the stars" with a quiet chuckle as I eased her hands off my belt. "Perhaps we'll make a wish on a falling star" I took a step toward the door with Beth still pressed to my back. I felt her determination, she wanted what I had fought, our intimacy.

"It's chilly out there" she pouted; now her face was pressed flat between my shoulder blades. I felt each word in hot breath thru my Henley. Mother of God, who on this earth is strong enough to fight her off?

"How about we cuddle, you know, it's historical, it's called Bundling under the covers. It panders to a certain Scottish thriftiness toward winter heating bills, as an eighteenth-century ditty confirms:

_Since in a bed a man and maid,_  
><em>May bundle and be chaste,<em>  
><em>It does no good to burn out wood,<em>  
><em>It is just needless waste."<em>

I smiled at her, I hadn't ever quoted poetry to her and now it was about being side by side in a bed albeit fully clothed and separated by a board.

"Mick, honestly that's colonial, you're only what, 80 years old?" Now she had let go of me to sail around the front of me, leering at me lasciviously, sweetly, but just as lasciviously as she intended.

"85" I whispered, looking around the room for an afghan or a throw to huddle under.

"85 what?" she was attached at my chest now, the scent of her shampoo driving me delirious.

"85 years old this fall and yeah it wasn't a practice from my era but you could learn a lesson from it" We ended up wrapped around each other, under a blanket under the stars as I ground my molars for control.

Of course, the best way to take your mind off a woman…follow another woman, well, let me clarify that. Josef had the network abuzz and he needed me. Imagine Josef needing me. His Entertainment subsidiary, Midnight Titles held the option for a reality show about Royals living in abroad. This time they were following none other than Bernadette Esme, born in 1966, twin sister to Michael John, Daughter of Lady Dawn. Her coming to America would be exposed to some extent over 4 weeks when they would jump in the Airstream and follow some regal offspring from Monaco riding Motorcycles on the salt flats. It would be my job to be seen beside Bernadette Esme in a "hide in plain sight" capacity.

"Mick, I'd like to present, Lady Bernadette," Josef pulled into his full height as he brought forth an exquisitely clad young woman. Her eyes bore through me, a habit from being spied on from birth. Nothing this young woman did went unnoticed, from her first day of life to her leaving the UK to work with the World Youth Organization. I could only imagine this gal hanging from a rappelling harness over a gaggle of 14 year old Boy Scouts.

"Please call me Detty" She had the same grace her Mummy had and I chuckled inside at it. I had my Beth tucked inside my heart, I wasn't re-walking a path. "Is something humorous, Mr. St John?" She tilted her head as her lips pursed.

"Thinking about some other place another time ago, Detty, so sorry. It's a pleasure to work with you this week" I recovered without her thinking me daft, I think.

"The first escapade is our lunch at the outdoor bistro; the cameras will follow me then on to the Scouting Outing" Detty pulled the knapsack from the floor and dug through athletic clothes like a terrier. Climbing shoes, leggings and a Heat gear tank flew onto the sofa beside her. "You with me on the Outing, its inside" she pursed her lips again, looking well under her 42 years. And we were off to the Scouting All-nighter…..

The useless dawn found me on a deserted street-corner; I had survived a night of screaming 14 year old Boy Scouts as they cheered their most energetic up the climbing wall relay, made tin foil dinners and baked chocolate chip filled bananas in white hot coals. Once the last of them was tucked inside their summer weight sleeping bags I put a firm hand on Detty's lower back and delivered her to the Biltmore which was conveniently across the street from the Loft.

I loped through the night's proud waves of street lights and infrequent traffic, the air laden with all hues of LA's deep spoil of the homeless living in Pershing Square. The ride up to the loft always brought me down to the essence of my life. Everything was inside the loft, until Beth. Without Beth at the Loft such a large portion was missing. Sure, since she had begun her visits more mortal accoutrements had made their appearance too. First she plunked down the Wüsthof block of knives and although the honing steel did look like a stake I didn't fuss. Within weeks the kitchen began to take on a "Williams and Sonoma" air. The loft did look "homier"

I opened my email and read the sweet "good-nights" Beth had left me and I pinched myself at its sweet sensuality. Beth had given me the gift of so many invitations and I had answered her with refusals, of things half given away, half, withheld, of forbidden joys within a dark hemisphere of an undead boyfriend.

Being part of the Night, I have trouble broaching a particular subject with Beth. I tell her how dangerous I am and she fights that surge of ethics I suffer over. Her heart holds the music for dreams, and the heady smoke of love gone to ashes with Josh. Because of that feeling she has a burning tenacity for success in pursuing me. Why she loves me I do not know ….

One of the emails requested I meet a new client in front of the fountain in Pershing Square. I palmed my keys and headed across the street.

I should have heard the car even though I didn't see it. It caught me and bounced me up the hood and over the back of the car. Stunned, laying prone, feeling the vibrations of my bones, listening to them like a tuning fork the road vibrated too, in harmony with my vertebrae. I shook my head and rolled to my knees, then on hands and knees, giving a final shake I stood, brushed myself off and darted to the other side of the broad street.

Once I got to the fountain I waited, checking my messages as I watched the night shattering dawn discovering me in a deserted park. I turned over the words the potential client posed as I stood in the coming dawn, I lost them, I found them; and I calculated I had been set up. Would the loft be tossed when I returned?

You can imagine my satisfaction when the place wasn't tossed, so much so that I took the steps two at a time and took the coldest shower possible and packed myself on ice until sunset.

"Mick, how about being my plus one for a banquet Saturday night?" Beth was so damned irrepressible, it was Monday and I was ready to pack up the car and escape to Vegas for the rest of the week. I had made it through the last week with Detty and collected a nice check for "Detty-sitting". Who wouldn't enjoy laying on your belly catching the view from a Tower suite on the 35th floor at the Bellagio?

"Plus one, huh?" I chided her, in good fun.

"Yup, it's the California Association of Broadcasters; you deserve to be my plus one! I was invited because of the work exposing that letch of a Professor" I could hear her fumbling with her keys, getting into her car.

"Beth, drive carefully, come on by and we'll talk about while you have dinner, OK?" I slid open my laptop and ordered Mu Shu Pork and steamed dumplings for delivery. It seemed too fast when there was a knock on the door. Before I could get to the monitor I lost any sense of a visitor, so curiosity led me to throw open the door – damn, nobody there.

I closed the door behind me and waited for Beth, killing time opening a bottle of Tempranillo and fiddling with a jeweler's box. I sat, staring into the fire, weighing the idiocy of my offering Beth something as juvenile as a bracelet. Here I was afraid of intimacy and I about to offer her a piece of jewelry as a marker for her heart.

"Knock, Knock" Beth voiced as she chuckled into the camera with a wink. I was done for at the sight of her, sweaty curls at her temples gave away the rush she made to get over here. I swept her into my arms inhaling her day along with her cachet. Her workday had included frustration with sides of gratification and anticipation. Were any of these directed or reflected to me?

"Hey, you" I caught her arm load of design magazines and another bag from Williams and Sonoma, "What now?" as I extracted a wine aerator, "Did I absolutely need this?"

Beth shook her head as if it wasn't positively evident, "With your acute sense of taste why wouldn't you? Mixed with the proper amount of air, wines release their full flavor and bouquet, even everyday table wines".

"Right" my prolonged enunciation of that single word drew her smirk and her elbow nudge to my arm suddenly our arms were empty of all the temporal things and we were frozen in place, about to draw into a hug.

All we wanted was each other. The air grew electric as our bodies drew closer; I caught the scent of her cologne, her shampoo and the flavor of her lip gloss. I'd sell my lost soul for completion with her and now this caress; this momentary embrace would drive me wild for hours.

"Mick" her warm single word melted into my chest as she wrapped her lithe arms around me, how could I refuse? I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, the "safest" place to hold her in my demented mind. Then the lengths of our bodies met and all of her gentile softness fused to me.

"Beth, baby…. Let's use that aerator and get a bottle of wine opened" I smirked at the diversion I was broaching as she separated from "us" to work the new kitchen equipment.

I waited on the sofa, the bracelet behind me in the crevice of the cushions. The sway of her hips, the jostle of her healthy breasts under her shirt, the wave of her blond hair it all entranced me to her smiling eyes.

"Here, happy Monday, yours is…" she held out the one in her left hand.

"The one with a little bit of A+, nice touch, thanks" I scented the oversized goblet she had especially prepared for me, "And I have a little something for you". I swallowed a mouthful of wine and surrendered the glass to the coffee table. The box appeared before Beth and she quivered, her fingers clenched and released as she bit her bottom lip. We shared a look and I nodded, "Go ahead, it's just a little something I wanted you to have".

The vintage box had seen a few hands – it had been my Mother's something I plucked from their estate sale. The pink gold was fashioned into roses and leaves with a small diamond in the center of each rose. She gasped at its intricacy. "Mick, this is too much, Mick, this looks like it's been in the family a long time. Are you sure you want me to have this?"

I couldn't be surer, "Beth, you know me…..if I hadn't wanted you to have this, I would never put it on your wrist". She carefully extricated the bracelet from the old school jewelry box and I worked the clasp to enclose the old gold wonder around her wrist. "I hope you like Art Deco, it was my Mom's".

It caught the dim light beautifully as she turned her wrist back and forth. I was assaulted by the scent of affection and gratitude, manifested by her pheromones kicking into high gear. She was warmly hugging me, her lips working their way from my neck to my ear where her warm breath tipped me over the limit. Remember the old "Laugh In" joke, "Blow in my ear and I'll follow you anywhere"? Well she just had and it paralyzed me.

"Mick, this is too grand, I…." her words were interrupted by her lips glancing on my jaw, and then catching my lips. Our tongues danced as I felt myself pull her over my lap. Not the innocent cuddling kind of embrace, she slid over me with knees planted either side of my hips. We were complicit in the seduction. I should have known better.

Clothes vaporized as rapidly as inhibitions. My white Henley waved off my arms like a flag of surrender. I caught a barely clothed Beth into my arms and pinned her wandering hands above her head, "Is this what you really want?"

Her eyes wore passion like flames; her body glistened with an anticipatory sheen. "Mick, I'd gladly trade whatever I have for this". Her lips were plump from kissing along my 5 o'clock shadow.

"Whatever you have?" it didn't sound like a fair trade, as it could have meant her life. "Beth, I could hurt you".

"No you won't. You love me, and I love you" She was optimistically misguided.

"Beth,….." I slid her to the end of the sofa and retreated to the other end. "We need to talk about me" I folded my arms over my bare chest and her eyes rose to meet mine. Clad in our underwear we were a sight.

Frustrated at me she snorted and rose to claim her hip length cardigan. She paced a circle around the sofa until I asked her to sit. "Beth, you know I've told you I have done some ruthless things" Beth's head tilted that I saw her bright blue eyes thru thick lashes along with her pout. "I need to come clean on a couple of things and tonight things got out of hand before I could".

She bit at her thumb and nodded her head. "Go ahead, but I'm not a priest, I don't take confessions".

"You may want to hear this one" I gathered my trousers to cover my boxer/briefs and slid back into them, "You know I was the detective who rescued you when you were kidnapped"

She shrugged, "So, I figured it was you from the photos in your file, the dreams I had. You're almost immortal, is that what bothers you, my age?" she drew her knees up and I caught the creamy expanse of her thighs, the junction of warm flesh covered by pink panties, I tossed her a throw from the back of the sofa and she frowned at my silent request.

"I brought you back to your Mother; did you know how she found me? Did the two of you ever have that conversation?" I felt the lump in my chest rise up my throat as she made more faces. Once she finished rolling her eyes I began again.

"I knew you Mother, before she was married to your Father" The room grew impossibly silent save for the sound of her quickening heartbeat and the gas flames of the fireplace.

"Knew" knew or "Met" knew her?" Beth's face took on a distasteful expression, somewhat between sour milk and lemon juice.

"If you consider "dating" the "Knew" knew, I'd say it was in that neighborhood". Now I had said it and the relief hadn't felt good at all. I felt like a predator, like a 21st century Humbert Humbert.

"How long before Dad?" she asked as if that made a difference.

"We were apart for a good while before your folks met and were married. I never EVER imposed on their life." I was emphatic about that and would swear on a bible if I believed it wouldn't go up in flames.

The critical question hung between us, and then it fell, "Did you sleep with my Mother?"

Of all the people I could fabricate to, Beth was not one of them, "We enjoyed a great relationship". A gentleman never kisses and tells I felt that covered the subject of intimacy.

"Enjoyed a great relationship?" She bolted up and glared at me, "who enjoyed who more? Did she feed you? Was she a Freshie?" the last question was especially venomous. Beth wasn't a fan of feeding fresh, "Well?" Now Beth was indignant, she whisked up her discarded clothes and began redressing. Her face was florid, her breathing halting as she went to remove the cardigan to pull on her shirt. She eyed the bracelet and held up her wrist, "Was this a bribe?"

"Beth, your Mom is a beautiful woman….. No the bracelet was a gift" I followed suit on the redressing; approaching her to perhaps try a calming embrace and that fell flat. Beth was dressed and fighting the clasp on her gift, tears were welling in her eyes and I saw the impending gloom.

"I think I'd feel better if you got this back" she broke a nail opening the stiff clasp and sucked at it while she eyed me with fury. Then Beth held the bracelet by her thumb and forefinger, as if it were radioactive. "Good-bye, Mick, have a good life or unlife, I don't know what you call your existence."

I didn't know what to call it either. I caught the bracelet from her hand and stood, rebuffed. The loft was silent now, save for the occasional snort of my runny nose. I had fought back tears and they had backed up inside me, I felt like a bastard. I poured a tumbler of blood heavy on the single malt and stood on the roof's parapet while I conjectured if a fall from that height would kill me. My luck it would bust me up well enough to cause discussion if mortals saw me get up, a bad move for a member of the Tribe.

Woefully, I closed my eyes to the burn of tears and swallowed the last mouthful of bloody single malt.

I bruise you, you bruise me we both bruise too easily, too easily to let it show, I love you and that's all I know.

All my plans have fallin' through; all my plans depend on you,

Depend on you to help them grow, I love you and that's all I know.

The following evening I saw an envelope slid under my front door, I picked it up to read a Post-it note attached:

_Mr. St. John:_

_This envelope was in the hallway, with your name on it. I slid it under the door for safekeeping._

_Your neighbor across the hall,_

_Beverly Frank_

The envelope was heavy kraft paper with a tamperproof seal. I came back inside and dropped it on my lap while I ate "breakfast". No return name, I weighed it in one hand while I sipped, letting the blood trickle down my throat. I had been morose, feeling nothing could have prevented Beth's reaction to her Mother being my lover and more.

Sliding a finger under the flap I dumped the contents on my lap, 8 x 10 black and white glossies fell into a random scatter. They were snapshots of me, bouncing off the hood of the car, flying on to the roof and hitting the pavement quite like a ragdoll until I took a knee and rolled to my feet and fled to the other side of 5th street. All of it caught by some fiend with a truly good eye and great camera equipment. I was screwed before I read the letter.

_Dear Mr. St. John:_

_Pretty impressive physicality you display here….. Care to explain it?_

_Meet me in Pershing Park Wednesday at 9pm. You only come out at night, don't you Mick?_

_D. Foster_

Side winded, screwed, and fucked I'd say. This sort of thing caused termination or at the least a relocation with expunction, a costly affair. Just as I was mulling over my options the phone rang, Josef.

"Mick, get much mail lately?" his voice was dry, harsh.

"Just one piece lately, why do you ask?" I knew he had to have received a matching envelope.

"I have a car coming for you, in the garage. Close up the loft. Do NOT go back" Josef's delivery was terse, as I'd expect in a situation like this. Throwing a few clothes, my passport, a small strongbox and a spare pair of shoes into a duffle I locked everything up tight. This could be my last night here or my last night.

My ride should have been silent; yet a rainstorm had swept the sky and I listed to the rhythm of the wipers as I endured the perspicacity of Josef's loyal chauffer, a guy who had me by a hundred or so years. He had that look in his eyes that he was looking at a chump.

The gavel under the tires could have bit into my back; I felt every crunch as the bulletproof Mercedes limo pulled in from of Josef's home. In the heavy rain, the bananas didn't smell quite as redolent as I rushed through the garden into the dimly lit home.

"What got you all fired up to run across 5th Street, hot date in Pershing Square?" Josef's voice had the timbre of a tight violin, his eyes cut as hard as his voice. He handed me an embroidered handkerchief to wipe my brow.

"It was a set up; I dropped Detty at the Biltmore and got an email about meeting a new client. The car didn't have lights" I felt 10 years old, full of excuses. I shook off the rain from my duster, shirking it into the hand of Josef's man servant. I adjusted my vest to stroll toward Josef.

"What about your exemplary vamp sense, you can't smell an internal combustion engine?" Now Josef's expression held raw contempt, "You hate what you are so you throw caution to the four winds, your accident wasn't attempted suicide it could start a pogrom on the undead."

"It wasn't like that – I swear to you, it wasn't that at all" In the past 24 hours I had lost Beth, maybe this was it…going out with a whimper, not a bang. "How did you get included?" I scuffed at my bottom lip as I hung my head. Josef stepped back around his desk into his chair, once he chewed as his bottom lip his eyes silvered and he phased into an ugly sight, not the suave, sensual vampire who entertained his Freshies… … but a Monster of a man, nearly sprouting horns at his forehead. I had never seen Josef like this in 53 years.

"I was contact by a mortal, a young woman who wanted to know what she had to do to "save Mick". Josef steepled his hands, his elbows on his desk as bile rose into my throat. Beth, Beth had gone to intercede for me. "Your mortal brought her envelope to me at dusk; she found it when she arrived home after plying her trade on the web. Josef spun the monitor around to show a captured image of Beth describing a case of bank fraud.

"What did you to her?" I launched across the desk, grabbing his tropical weight wool lapels. "Where is she, what did you do to her, Josef?" Now I had taken on his monstrous appearance also.

"She is at her apartment, waiting for Mr. Foster. He was meeting her prior to your meeting" Now Josef leaned back, raising his legs gracefully to cross one over the other on the end of his desk.

"NO, JOSEF! She can't be alone with him, think of what he could do….she's…" I begged only to be cut off.

"Because she's just a mortal", Josef shook his head as if to say "Oh, yee of little faith", he ran his tongue over his fangs and continued, "Cool your jets, Mick. Did I live past 400 falling apart like you do?"

"No, no you didn't" I ran both hands thru my wet hair, for the first time in decades I felt cold sweat trickle down the center of my back. "What now?" I sat head in hand, and then raise my head to meet his eyes.

"Mr. Foster seems to make a living out of extorting people. When your little mort…"

"Beth, her name is Beth Turner" I corrected sharply.

"When your girlfriend…." Josef began again.

"She's not my girlfriend, did she say she was my girlfriend because she walked out on me last night" I rebutted.

"If she's not your girlfriend then I would say she's your unindicted co-conspirator in being undead. Do you know what intel she raised on this jackass in an hour?" Josef lifted a purple flash drive and shook it. "I sent protection, more than likely Mr. Foster won't be making your meeting at the Square." Now he leaned back in a self-satisfied completion. "Why'd she walk out on you? No nooky?"

Now he was just crass. "I had some experiences she couldn't reconcile" I confessed rather blandly.

"Did they involve her Mother?" Josef sniffed the air for signs of deceit. "Because I tip my hat to you old man, I usually try to skip a generation" His eyebrows wiggled at his fraternization policy.

"Beth can't reconcile Freshies, before I could even clarify our relationship, Beth jumped to the conclusion that I used her Mother" At least that was the way I saw it.

When the singer's gone let the song go on...

But the ending always comes at last; endings always come too fast,

They come too fast but they pass too slow, I love you and that's all I know.

Josef looked as his iPhone, "You could always clarify that discussion later tonight" Josef had that sly smile of his again. His emotions had run the gamut tonight.

"What happened?" As if I wanted to know…..

"All will be revealed shortly, and the Cleanup is on you, cash, and no terms" Josef ran his index finger inside his collar and then decided to loosen his tie. We sat in a companionable silence for 20 or so minutes before he rose to pour two rocks glasses of half Blood and half single malt, a vampire's "Half and Half". We sipped in silence until the commotion filtered from the foyer. The sound of leather, high heels and a particularly combative blond worked their way toward the office.

"Let go of my arm, where do you think I'm going?" Beth snapped, "I am going to talk to Josef, this is not going to be pretty for you" now she shook an accusing finger at Claudia and I had to hide a grin – Beth had no idea who she had threatened with that little finger of hers.

The leather outfits should have registered from the Hospital when I put down the Rogue Vampire. Beth wrenched loose to stumble into the office and seeing me wasn't what she expected. "What is he doing here?" Now the emotion amped up, she wasn't speaking to me, but around me to Josef.

In my boundless capacity for iniquity and turpitude I had to control the urge to laugh at this kitten child before the lions of the Vampire world. I hid my smirk in my hand as she turned to face Josef, "Why is he here?"

"I had him brought here" Josef's voice was steady, even, so very damned calm.

"What are you thinking? He's the last person I wanted to see" Beth snorted derisively.

"Yet he was the first person you wanted to save from Mr. Foster" Josef tossed the thought back to her, nonchalantly.

"I owed the Tribe as you call it a favor, Mick St John was simply one of the Tribe" Now her voice trembled, I could scent the remorse, the pain in her heart.

"Ms. Turner, I believe just as we are all standing here that you and Mr. St John have some unfinished business, I'll take my leave and allow that conversation to take place". Josef rose and clipped out of our way, sub tonally he chuckled, "You have your hands full, boyo, call me if you need any help". To which I simply snorted as I shook my head.

"Let's take a walk" I held out my hand and tilted my head out the double doors.

Her eyes narrowed as she elected to fold her arms over her breasts, pushing them higher, "Where to?"

"Down the hall for a little privacy" At her refusal to hold my hand I stuffed them deep into my pockets. She at least followed me, shoulder to shoulder down the long hall, each of us mute, uncomfortably silent.

I opened the suite door and stepped toward the bar, she shook her head and I availed myself of a snack, just a short shot of A+ to steady my hands, even out my nerves.

"So, now we talk?" I grimaced at what she would say. I leaned back against the bar as I sipped.

"I have nothing to say" her chin rose defiantly in the air, a hand aside jaw as her tongue skirted her bottom lip.

"Then this is going to be a short conversation I guess. I can't change what I am; I can't change what happened before you were born and I cannot help who I love now". I turned to drop the glass on the bar and I hung my head at that insufficient concession.

"Who do you love now?" her voice broke just above a whisper.

"You, you, Beth, I've loved you for years" I blanched at the thought of the admission as I turned and leaned on my hands, the hands that itched to skate over her and give her pleasure for the rest of all time.

"Years?" Now she fumbled with her thumbnail as her chin dropped slowly.

"Ever since you left for college, once you turned 18, that's when I admitted it. When I actually wasn't ashamed to whisper "I love you, Beth" when I caught the sight of you".

"What did you do to my Mother?" Her voice held hardened curiosity that threatened to take the cat's 9th life.

"With your Mother, Beth, we were a couple for a while" I nodded and she returned the nod for me to continue. "Kate was Josef's private stock, there was an accident with another vamp and she wanted a slower pace, we got close"

I recoiled at revealing what really happened but forever is a long time for regret, so I admitted it, "Then, she saw me kill. I knew by the terror in her eyes it was too much like someone else's rage. Kate could be with as long as she saw me as the gentle knight in shining armor. One night we were ambushed for her sweet blood, a very bad Vamp grabbed at her and reflex took over. I caught him by the throat and spun him until his head separated from his shoulders. Of course that bloody tableau was only after we sparred and each got a few bloody bites into each other. Kate cowered, too fearful to run like hell. She watched the two of us fight for her"

I watched Beth's response, stoic in the face of her Mother's lesson in loving the undead.

"The noble part, there wasn't any. Frenchie would have put her over his knee and drained her dry for grins and giggles; I was simply protecting my lover, defending my territory. It wasn't nobility that brought me to her aide; it was my defending my possession, my lover. And she saw it in my eyes."

"She saw more than she wanted to" Beth proclaimed.

"Yeah, yeah she did. She was loyal to the Tribe, she held our secrets and I respected her enough to NOT want a life with me, but I love you too much to want a life without you, Beth". I held out my arms, hoping she would feel the same. "Have you seen more than you wanted, Beth?" I had to know…

The thunder strummed its force within me while steady rain fell in the background; the balanced beat rivaled her heart as our hunger built such a groundswell that we could only meet in the middle of the room, our lips joined before the rest of our bodies melded together.

"I want to be with you forever . . . . . .. Mick. . . . . .I ….. Am…yours…..totally" she spoke, blessing me with kisses between her words. I caught her bright face in my hands to feel her reality.

"I can do that, we can do that, I love you so much, Beth" Now it was my turn to run hungry lips along her jaw, to seek her plump, ripe lips, to feel her make me worthy with her body while she shared her soul. The feelings of our flesh touching, at the wrists, and the palms and the lips was electric. "Marry me, Beth, let me know I'm worthy of your love"

"Mick, when I am with you, the only place I want to be is closer." Her stark words warmed me. "Yes, I'll marry you, you have my heart". And as she collapsed against me I startled, realizing my hand had halted at my vest, stalled in my musings.

"I'm sorry," I replied. "Just...thinking."

She leaned back at me, and undid the buttons. "Stop thinking."

With her very closeness, her familiar, treasured scent, I was beginning to find that thought was the last thing from my mind. "Yes," I murmured, touching the graceful line of her collarbone.

Beth undid the last button and I sensed her humor as her body quivered under my touch. "Of all the things you could have chosen to wear tonight," she said, pushing the vest off my shoulders to fall on the floor. I smirked and undid my shirt, leaving it where it fell.

My hands returned to rest on her collarbone and I was reminded of the dove I had seen in the neighborhood when I was a boy, its wings beating against my cupped hand; such strength there had been in those frail bones, in the heart that had thrummed against my skin. As I slid the straps of her tank top off Beth's shoulders and watched the satin pool on the ground in a liquid rush, and felt the sparks begin to flicker between us.

Sensitivities doubled and redoubled-"I am" spread to "she is" and became "we are"-through the fibers of our visceral connection of having fed me her blood so long ago in the desert. My reticence in loving carnally had taught me that the intertwining of thought and emotion was a natural consequence of her blood sharing, but it still astonished me with awe and joy. Her need was almost a living force and the quick river of her thoughts had but one meaning: Together Forever…..

Beth's touch released the fly on my jeans and not a moment too soon, I thought gratefully as I pushed the pants down and off, along with my boots. For a moment we stood, arms enfolding each other, her breathing only as loud as a whisper "I missed you so," I said against the golden mass of her hair.

Her hands toyed with the hair on my chest and I shivered. "Did you?" Beth murmured against my throat. I felt-and knew she felt-my unnaturally slow pulse stuttered at her touch. I could manage only a low growl of need and want. Something in her thrilled to hear that sound, I realized. Desired it, invited it even. She slid her hands through my hair, light fingertips caressing me. Her scent coiled in the air, waiting. Wanting to justify our love within whatever unworthy words we could conjure.

The balcony doors had opened slightly; the cool scents of wind and rain and the distant heavier city smells-asphalt, exhaust, fuel, damp pavement-entered the suite. "We should close the doors," Beth murmured, but almost of my own accord, I felt my arms constrict around her, not wanting to let her go, not now, not ever. In the instant the instinct emerged, I overrode it with a chill of revulsion, and freed her. What was I thinking to hold her so tightly with my superior power? What must she think?

Beth's eyes met mine, prudent and blue and not at all shocked. "It's okay," she said, and to my perpetual amazement, I knew that it was. She understood...everything. She hadn't wanted to leave either. She crossed to the other side of the bedroom and closed and locked the balcony doors. "There," Beth said. "Now, where were we?"

"Beth-" I began.

The touch of her fingers on my mouth did the job. "Don't," she said.

There was nothing I could do but accede to her demand, my apology dying in my throat unspoken. I tasted the salt of her touch on my lips and bent down to kiss her, tasting her sweetness.

Beth drew back a little. "Better?" she asked, looking upwards.

One of her hands rested at my throat; my slow pulse hammering hard as the roll of distant thunder. "You have to ask?" I inquired.

"I don't," she replied, tugging on my hand. "Come, love." Turning back the covers, she drew me down beside her.

We lay there for a time, foreheads touching, and breath mingling. Beth reached up and touched the planes of my face, my hair still damp from the trip over. My eyes scrutinized her, just a little stunned that she hadn't recoiled from me. "Hold me, please?"

My arms encircled her again with a lighter touch than our excursion the other night. Tonight I touched her as if she were made of glass. "I want you closer," she insisted.

I released a great breath that stirred the hair on her forehead, as my arms tightened. "Better," Beth said, kissing me, feeling me stir against her.

"I love you," I confessed, voice no louder than the rain.

"I love you too," she replied. Beth felt the long muscles of my back and shoulder relax, no longer as tense as I had been. Her strong thigh nestled between mine, my hands at her back pulling her close. Her breasts rose against my chest, tearing a soft groan from me. "You undo me," I said against her throat.

She shivered, my dull teeth gently scraping the skin. "I'm melting," she whispered, and she felt my slow dawning smile against her neck.

"What a world that holds us both together, like this." I murmured, chuckling, lifting my head to meet her eyes and something very intense silvered my eyes. Beth knew that look that hunger, my cravings only too bare. My hand moved over her breasts and she shivered again, loving how even my most gentle touch could light fire along her nerves.

Her hands felt like satin on my bare skin. Beth glanced at my eyes, seeing the blue of them nearly lost to the silver of my passion as we shared waves of enjoyment between us. Her hands found that one spot on the base of my neck, hidden by dark densely curled hair, and she could sense the powerful rhythms of my pulse lurch again at her touch.

The echoing, the strange twinning of my perceptions overlaid with her own, was beginning to cross through our connection as she stroked longer, fine strokes along my spine, wringing another groan. It seemed she could see into my world, quite distinct from her world, tonight sounds were clearer, sights sharper and it might have been her scent or mine that hung so profoundly in the air, summoning.

My arousal was strong against her thigh and she could feel me fighting instinct and our desires to merge them both. Which made no sense-surely I could tell how much she wanted me? My own desire was thundering with all the force of violent river. "Why?" Beth asked, gently forcing me to meet her eyes.

A revelation shot through us then, as pure and explicit as any she'd ever sensed from me, her skin, her body, arching above mine. In a thunderclap of remembered sensation, Beth knew. That treasured moment, one of a few from the other night, what we yearned to feel again. "Oh, yes," she murmured against my shoulder. "Yes."

I lay back then as Beth left the bed to open the balcony curtains wide to the sight of the rain and the moonlit clouds. She scrambled back onto the warmth of the bed, and felt my strong hands clasp hers as she settled over my abdomen. "This?" she asked, feeling the pulse jump and shudder where their hands were joined.

"Yes," I rumbled my voice somewhere between a growl of need and a purr as my hands left hers to trace her breasts. "To see you like this...in my dreams I saw you just like this."

"I know," Beth said; our dreams had been shared through impotent conversations, more often than not. How many nights had we each awakened, gasping, on fire from fantasies? Too many to count and yet, we were here, now. She rocked against me, a wordless demand.

Her hair was gilded against the ivory of her skin, as it flowed loose down her back. Rain rattled and shook against the glass doors, the ageless rhythms of the storm echoing the gathering tide of our desire. I heard her demand, her heart's plea. Now. Please. I can't...wait… we shared that same thought.

I knew. Oh, I knew as my hands traced the smoothness of her thighs; my mouth tasted her soft breasts, dappled where the reflection of the rain touched her skin. Her low groan of pleasure was my own-that this woman, would love and desire me so. And I could no longer deny what we both wanted. I arched against her slightly, and Beth gathered me in, welcoming, bringing me home deep between the petals of her warm willing flesh.

Becoming part of her was more than a physical joining, our souls finding each other. In such moments, we were more than another couple. We were mortal and undead, skating on the razor's edge of fantasy to come together now. Light and dancing fire, a fire that should have consumed my undead flesh but only served to burn hotter, it began to flood each of us as Beth moved against me. As I felt all that I was and would be follow her into the flames together. The bite was quick to land, her abrupt gasp softened by her coming. I drank sweet drops of her life and lick laboriously to seal and heal the twin punctures. Her flavor sweetened by love, more brilliant a flavor than what she had offered in the desert to bring me back from the brink of death.

Tonight this sweet taste of her brought me back from the brink of my heart's death. Beth never let me move from her, after own coming. Knowing this, I gently turned us both onto our sides as she nestled against me. Her hands moved through my hair as our foreheads touched again, as she peppered kisses over me.

"If I could purr, I would," she said, her hand on my chest, no doubt feeling the soft rumble under my peculiar breathing.

I smiled, feeling words and thought beginning to return. Her forehead was damp against mine and she shivered as I ran one cool hand down the smooth silk of her flank. "I don't know...I don't think you need to."

"Mmmmm," Beth replied, stretching lazily, tracing the lines of my ears. "Perhaps you're right." She tilted her head up to look at me. "Can we stay today?"

I nodded. "I'm sure Josef will be...very happy indeed about our decision."

She laughed a delicious sound, low in her throat. "Ah. A bit surly, were you?"

I acknowledged this with a small, rueful smile. "Imaginably, I missed you."

With her free hand, Beth managed to pull the tangled covers over us. "I missed you too. Could you sleep, now?"

"We don't sleep, I mean I don't sleep" Clearly sensing her surprise, she chuckled again. "I, I know you. You looked so tired when I saw you tonight. You haven't been eating right, you're running on a sense of obligation, am I right?"

"Yes," I said; there was no point in trying to hide anything from her, nor should I ever try. "And you? Will you sleep now?"

She didn't have to say it had been just as difficult for her; I could feel the weight of those past few months. "Yes, I will, now that you're here."

"Take a breather now, then," I murmured against her hair.

"Mick, if….I died tonight, I would be complete" Beth's eyes softened with her confession.

I couldn't answer that.

"So, will you be my plus 1 on Saturday night?" Beth whispered dreamily as we spooned.

"I'll be your plus one forever" I nuzzled back into her neck, looking forward to each day as it came. I closed my eyes awash in gratification, reconciliation, love.

We were a fated pair and fate brought us joyfully together, finally – never to part.

_**When the singer's gone let the song go on, It's a fine line between the darkness and the dawn.**_

_**They say in the darkest night there's a light beyond.**_

_**But the ending always comes at last, Endings always come too fast, they come too fast but they pass too slow,**_

_**I love you, and that's all I know, that's all I know, that's all I know.**_

"Doctor Josef Kostan dictating final notes on Michael St. John, time of death September, 23, 2008… This patient presented with locked in neurological syndrome. He was received into this hospital post World War II after a traumatic head injury received on the European front. His survival to this point has been miraculous."

Dr. Kostan wiped away fatigue as he gathered his words for his next statements, "Under my leadership my protégé, a Resident, Dr. Elizabeth Turner, has managed the team to deliver the critical mix of nutrition and stimulation. The time she has spent with Mr. St John has run into months, especially those following her Fiancé's untimely death in an auto accident. I can only imagine that his attempts to smile have something to do with his attraction to Dr. Turner."

That alone made Josef smile, after all what else might make an old man grin than a fine-looking fresh woman spending hours by his bedside, holding his hand, carrying on a one sided tête-à-tête as if she expected him to chime in. "Dr. Turner's grief at losing her fiancé was fuel for her assuming more responsibility for St John's care. Most patients lose the will to live and resolve themselves to die".

Dr. Kostan put down his Mont Blanc pen and winced at all the answers he'd never have, "We cannot begin to understand what gave Mr. St. John the will to live for these sixty plus years. What all had he experienced in these years? How had he navigated through his locked in state?"

"Mick St. John, thank you for joining us tonight"

"You're Welcome"

"So what's it like being a vampire?"

_**A Dream Within A Dream**_

_**Take this kiss upon the brow!**_

_**And, in parting from you now,**_

_**Thus much let me avow-**_

_**You are not wrong, who deem**_

_**That my days have been a dream;**_

_**Yet if hope has flown away**_

_**In a night, or in a day,**_

_**In a vision, or in none,**_

_**Is it therefore the less gone?**_

_**All that we see or seem**_

_**Is but a dream within a dream.**_

_**I stand amid the roar**_

_**Of a surf-tormented shore,**_

_**And I hold within my hand**_

_**Grains of the golden sand-**_

_**How few! yet how they creep**_

_**Through my fingers to the deep,**_

_**While I weep- while I weep!**_

_**O God! can I not grasp**_

_**Them with a tighter clasp?**_

_**O God! can I not save**_

_**One from the pitiless wave?**_

_**Is all that we see or seem**_

_**But a dream within a dream?**_

_**The End**_

_**(Edgar A. Poe)  
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